A Silver and Gold Lining
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: She was everyone's golden girl. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. However, people weren't always as they appeared on the outside, especially when you had to consider ancient Nordic lore, Veelas, and romance. Dramione .
1. Chapter 1

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**A Silver & Gold Lining**

**By**

**AnneM**

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><p><strong>Summary – <strong>_She was everyone's golden girl. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. However, people weren't always what they appeared to be on the outside. Sometimes there was more to them than even theyrealized, especially when you took in consideration ancient Nordic lore, romance and suspense._

_Left a widow at age 25, Hermione Granger felt alone and despondent, and it didn't help matters that her dead husband's cousin decided to swoop in on her to try to make a claim on her. She needed someone to help sort out everything. Little did she know that help would come by the way of her former enemy…Draco Malfoy._

_Draco Malfoy didn't want to become involved in her affairs, but her husband was a distant relative his, and he married Hermione Granger for a very specific reason, one that she was not aware. She was the descendent of the fabled Valkyrie – an ancient Norse legend, Odin sent a Valkyrie into battle, to determine which men were to live, which men were to die, and which men would have victory._

_Draco Malfoy had a secret of his own. He was a descendent of Veela. If a Veela should marry the last Valkyrie, he would become the most powerful Veela of them all- not that Draco Malfoy wanted that position, but he merely didn't want anyone else to have it either._

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Tangled Web<strong>

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><p><em>Three times nine girls, but one girl rode ahead,<em>

_White-skinned under her helmet;_

_The horses were trembling, from their manes,_

_Dew fell into the deep valley,_

_Hail in the high woods;_

_Good fortune comes to men from there;_

_All that I saw was hateful to me._

_From __the __poem __Helgakviða __Hjörvarðssonar_

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><p><em><strong>The Valkyrie - an ancient Norse legend, Odin sent a Valkyrie into battle, to determine which men were to live, which men were to die, and which men would have victory<strong>_

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><p>The sun felt unusually bright today. Summer was almost over, but the days were still long, and Hermione felt that the sun was hotter and brighter for the last few weeks, but especially today, for some reason. Opening her desk drawer, she pulled out her purse and placed it on the top of the desk so she could rummage through its contents. She knew she'd placed the letter from her dead husband's solicitor somewhere in here yesterday. Searching for a good five minutes, she was about to dump the entire contents on the floor, when she finally located the long, white envelope.<p>

Clutching it to her chest, she looked at the clock. It was fourteen minutes after five, which meant she was fourteen minutes late for her appointment. If she hurried, she would still be late.

Not that she cared.

She didn't care for much of anything these days. Since her husband, Jonathon, died nine months ago, she had felt as if she were in a dream state – a fugue, where nothing was real or how it really seemed. It wasn't as if she was in love with Jon when he died, for she wasn't. Therefore, her numbness didn't come from mourning the man. It came from mourning what might have been, because she loved him at one time. She loved him when she first married him, but he quickly showed his true colours and her love vanished just as he soon vanished. He wasn't even in England when he died. He was in Sweden with his family. And to this day, she didn't know how he died. Nor was there ever a body found. She was merely told that he died by an impersonal letter from his cousin and that was that.

Perhaps this meeting with his lawyer would shed new light on everything.

She sighed.

She recalled her storybook wedding only two years ago. She was so happy. It was like a fairytale come true. She felt like the proverbial princess, marrying the man she loved. And although she hadn't known him long, she was smart and she felt as if she knew exactly what she was doing - which only goes to prove that ANYONE can be duped – even the smartest witch of a generation.

Jonathon Hagen was handsome, blond and blue eyed, and although she only knew him for six weeks, she fell in love with him instantly. He grew up in Sweden, in a little magical town near Stockholm called Vanaheim, went to school at Durmstrang Institute, and he didn't seem at all enamored by Hermione's celebrity. She met him at University and they married right after graduation.

Then the nightmare began.

He was prone to fits of rage, which would lead to bouts of depression or worse, bouts of violence. He even made the mistake of once taking out his rage on Hermione…but he only made that mistake once. She still wore the scars of this single episode on the skin of her back.

Still, the violence was overshadowed by his melancholy. He would lock himself inside his study for days at a time. Then he would travel and leave Hermione alone for weeks. She began to find proof that he was seeing other witches, and when she confronted him with this proof, he laughed and told her it was his 'right' to have as many women as he wanted.

She laughed right back at him and told him to leave for good and never come back. Then she filed for divorce the next day and moved out the day after that. They were living in separate households, (their divorce not yet final) and hadn't spoken to each other for almost a year when she got the Owl that he'd died.

She didn't cry. She didn't know what to think. She felt numb, but not overtly sad. A week after the first letter, she received another from the same cousin, (a man she'd never met) saying that he was planning his funeral. There was never a body found, so Hermione didn't know why go to the pretense of a funeral? Still, out of respect for her dead husband's family, she went to the small town near Stockholm with Harry, Ron, and her parents to attend a funeral without a body, for a man whom she no longer loved.

Oddly enough, Draco Malfoy was there with his parents. She didn't think too much of it at the time. She merely assumed that as a pureblood (which Jon was) he must have been related somehow to the Malfoys, hence the reason they were at his funeral.

Three months after Jon died, the same cousin, Devlin Halberdsen, visited Hermione in London. He told her that as head of Jon's family, he would now 'protect' her.

She laughed in his face.

She explained that she didn't need anyone to protect her and she politely showed him to the door.

Before he left he asked her when her birthday was, which she thought was odd, but still she answered, for what was the harm? She told him she'd turn 25 years old on the 18th of September of that year, which was now only two weeks away. Then he asked an even odder question. He asked the surname of her great-grandmother on her mother's side. She thought for a moment, said, "Hansson, why?" He smiled and said, "I merely wanted to be sure. By the way, your ascension will begin sometime around your birthday in September. I'll call on you again before that time."

As he left her home, she stared at him oddly. For the life of her, she had no clue what he meant by the phrase, 'her ascension'. Nor did she care. He was an odd man, and she didn't care ever to see him again.

Now, nearly six months later as she walked out of her apartment building, through the crowded Muggle London sidewalks, her mind was crowded with thoughts of her deceased husband, his odd cousin and the letter she still clutched in her hand. And the heat was overwhelming – oppressive. She placed her free hand on the back of her neck, behind her hair. She would do anything to go ANYWHERE but where she was going today. She honestly felt too ill to Apparate, so she took a taxi to the address on the envelope, knowing she'd only be later, but not caring in the least.

Traveling in the back of the cab, she began to think about the weird dreams she'd been having lately. They were manifestations of dreams she had when she was younger, but these dreams were more vivid than her childhood dreams.

These dreams were intertwined with a story that her grandmother told her when she was very young. Her grandmother often told her that their family came from a long line of fairy princesses, but they weren't normal fairy princesses. They didn't wait for a prince to come along to protect them, or to carry them off in the sunset. These princesses, of which there were originally nine, were the ones who protected the princes. They made them strong. They helped them to become warriors.

Then her grandmother told her the strangest thing of all. She told her that Hermione was the last of these princesses, and that one day, it would all make sense to her. Now she was dreaming about this story…she was this princess, this last warrior princess, the one from her grandmother's story.

In the dream, she was a warrior, wearing a white glowing gown, a breast plated-armor that glistened white even as it glowed so bright that mere mortals couldn't look upon it. She rode on a white horse, her hair long and dark, flowing down her back. She carried a long, white sword, made of some sort of metal that was stronger than any other known metal. Moreover, she was fearless. She would ride into battle, and with one point of her sword, she could decide which warrior would live, and which warrior would die.

It all felt so real. It felt as if it was all about to really happen. She dreamt about it almost every night. And every day her skin felt different, she thought her hair looked different. She wasn't hungry, she ached all over. She constantly needed something that felt unattainable. Something was about to happen. She only wished she knew what it was.

.

Draco Malfoy looked at his watch. She was late. He didn't know much about Hermione Granger, since he hadn't seen her much since school. But from what he recalled of her, he remembered her as a straight-lace, know-it-all, snob who was fastidious about many things, including being on time. Much like him, to his chagrin.

He saw her only nine months ago at her husband's funeral. He was a distant cousin of the man, so he was forced to attend the funeral, along with his parents. If he expected to see her in mourning at the thing, he would have been surprised. She was there with her two side-kicks and her parents, but she didn't wear black, she didn't cry a tear, she didn't say a word to any of his friends or relatives, she didn't walk up to the podium to say any words in deference to the man. No. Hermione Granger acted in cold indifference that day.

Standing in the solicitor's office, he now understood why. From hearing the man speak with Jonathon's closest cousin, Hermione Granger was estranged for a very long time from her husband. In fact, she was separated from him longer than she was married to the man.

Furthermore, it was Draco's understanding that she never came to realize the true reason why Jonathon Hagen married her. Hagen never told Hermione of her destiny. He never told her of her ancestors, or of her refuted fate. Well, she would learn soon enough. It was the fourth day of September. Her birthday was a short two weeks away. She would be heading toward her ascension very, very soon.

The thought made Draco's eyes burn and his mouth grew into a tight line. He remembered his own ascension. It was different for Veela and for males, but still, it wasn't a walk in the park. It was painful. It was humiliating. It was exhausting, draining, and life altering, to say the least, and Draco at least had time to prepare. He knew what was coming – for from the time he was twelve years old his father had prepared him for the time he would turn twenty-one.

His father told him of their Veela ancestry. He told him what to expect on his twenty-first birthday. He helped him. He prepared him for the pain, helped him with the cravings, hunger, and yearnings. Who would help Granger?

Did anyone even know what would happen to her? What to expect? If she were a female Veela, there would be no problem, no problem at all. His mother or one of their relatives could help her, and after all, ascension for female Veela wasn't as bad as it was for males.

But she was reportedly the last known Valkyrie in the world, as odd as that sounded, and she didn't even know it. There hadn't been a Valkyrie change, or ascension, in at least two hundred years. From the things that Draco had read (to prepare for this meeting), it wasn't going to be a pleasant incident. She could very well die from the experience.

Jon Hagen should have told her what to expect. Or Devlin Halberdsen should have taken her into his protection earlier than now.

Upon learning that Halberdsen hadn't done his familiar duty, Lucius Malfoy came forward with a petition to the other Veela clans, claiming that Jon Hagen was related to Lucius' mother's family, making Draco as much a protector over the woman as Halberdsen.

Hence, the reason he was here today.

Wouldn't Granger weep with joy when she heard all this good news?

He stood up and paced around the solicitor's office even as the man said, "Perhaps we should Disapparate to her flat – see if she's there. It's not like her to be late, is it?"

Draco feigned, "How would I know?" Even though inside he was thinking the exact same thing.

The dead husband's cousin replied, "No, it's not like her to be late."

Draco stared at the man. How would he know? Draco took a deep breath in his nose and exhaled long and loud. He didn't like this man. He never had and never would. Why was he even here? Draco's petition was recognized by the counsel as a legitimate claim. They decided that Hermione had the right to 'choose' her own mate, as the last of the Valkyrie.

Although, damn it to hell, would Granger choose Draco over this other man? He wasn't so sure.

Draco almost groaned as he sat back down. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be chosen by his bushy-haired nemesis, but he didn't want this pile of rubbish sitting beside him to be chosen either. Something inside him told him that knowing Granger as he did, she would storm out of here without choosing either of them. She wouldn't believe them at first, then she would laugh in their faces, then she would claim that she needed time to 'think' and research their claim, even though time was something she didn't have.

Then she would leave. That would be the worst thing she could do. If she left, anyone might take her. He wouldn't want to alarm her, but that was the truth of it. She was coming near her ascension, and any Veela in the United Kingdom (hell, even on the Continent) would soon find out that the last of the Valkyrie was on the eve of ascension. It would be the thing of legends. For a Veela to mate with the last Valkyrie…it would make him the most powerful Veela of all.

Not that, that kind of thing mattered to Draco. Not in the least. He was here as a sense of duty to his father, and to make sure that Devlin didn't get her. He always hated that man. He really did.

.

When she finally entered the office, upon knocking on the door twice, Draco was taken aback slightly. It was the scent in the air that overwhelmed him first. Was it strawberries? Merlin. It was either strawberries or passion fruit. She was very, very close to her time. The room fell quiet when she walked in. The late afternoon sun was waning, but it was still bright enough to light her features, and to make her seem warm and welcoming. Almost otherworldly, and she didn't even know it.

Her hair was the same chestnut colour. Waves and curls that she'd always had, worn in long layers over her back and shoulders. She smiled, and her eyes sparkled with hints of gold and amber. Draco felt gobsmacked, as if he had never met the woman. In fact, Halberdsen stood to welcome her before he did, a fact that rankled him to no end. Then the damn solicitor shook her hand next. While those two fools fondled her hand and made fools of themselves, Draco continued to look at her oval face and fine figure.

She was beautiful. Was she always so beautiful? Yet she looked wane and somewhat sad. She looked overly tired. She was always on the small side, a fact that he just now registered. A fact that made him feel primitive down to his toes, because he wanted to sweep her off her feet and tuck her next to his side, away from the other men.

Then, the strangest thing happened. She approached him with a smile. She never smiled at him.

"Hello, Malfoy."

"Hello, Granger."

She hugged him. It felt odd to have her small, but lithe body melding next to his. He stood ramrod straight for a moment, until he felt her arms go tightly around his middle. She was warm and acquiescent next to him, so he lifted his arms, threw them around her, and stroked her back several times, before he greeted her with a, "You're late, Granger."

She smelled like summer rain. She turned her face up to his, her smile vanished, and in its place was a look of trepidation and weariness.

He wanted to bend his head, place his mouth on hers, and kiss her. How odd was that?

Then he realized that his response couldn't be real. It had to be him responding to the fact that she was so close to her ascension. Yet, her hand came up to his face, brushed his cheek, and she said, "Always frowning. You seem to be always frowning. Why are you even here, Malfoy?"

Another wave of heat coursed through his body, along with a fragrant desire to pick her up and take her away from the other men. As far as he was concerned, the fact that she greeted him with a hug, albeit a weary one, meant that she had already made up her mind as to her choice and it was he. He was seriously about to do just that when Halberdsen said, "We need to get started."

The man had the gall to reach over and snake a hand around her arm, pulling her away from Draco. Draco wanted to reach back over and pull her back, but he reigned those feelings in, pushed them aside, for now. The solicitor pointed to a seat by the desk, and Halberdsen ushered her to it, taking the seat next to it.

Draco decided to stand to the right of the solicitor, so he could watch her and Halberdsen the entire time.

She rubbed her eyes, then said, "Fine, fine, tell me, why am I here? If it's about Jon's estate, I already told you, Devlin, I don't want anything. He died nine months ago, so I don't understand why we're just now settling things anyway. We were in the process of divorcing when he died, in fact, our divorce was almost final. He only had to sign his copy of the papers."

Devlin smiled at her, making actual bile rise to Draco's throat. He wanted to take out his wand and do permanent damage to the man so badly. Devlin said, "This has nothing to do with Jon's estate, Hermione. This has to do with his legacy, and as far as the divorce is concerned, our magical law doesn't recognize Muggle divorces anyway, not that it matters, because you were still legally married when he died, which means his estate is under my control, as his next oldest male relative."

Draco cleared his throat and was about to argue that point when she threw up her hands, and with reproach in her voice, said, "Fine, then you can have everything! I already sold our house and sent his half of the money to his family! I sent all his belongings there, too! You can have it all! Why are we here?"

When Halberdsen didn't answer, Hermione turned to Draco. Draco suddenly found the pattern on the carpet very interesting. Lastly, she turned to the small solicitor sitting at his desk.

The middle-aged man said, "Mrs. Hagen…" only to be corrected by her when she said, "Miss Granger. My name is no longer Mrs. Hagen, so please call me Miss Granger."

"Ah…fine, Miss Granger, under the statue that protects magical creatures, section 12, article nine, when Veela marries another species, such as a Muggle or a Witch or Wizard, they are still protected under the laws of their own kind. However, when Veela marries one of his or her own kind, the law that protects magical creatures is very specific."

Hermione stood up suddenly. "What are you talking about? What law? Section 12, article nine, or what statue, or what law?"

"The law that protects magical creatures, such as Veela, Werewolves, Vampires, etc. You see, most of these creatures have their own laws, and under the laws that govern our kind, they are allowed, to a certain degree, to carry out their own laws, or practice their own rules and customs, govern their own kind, as is their tradition. Since you married a man who was more than one fourth Veela, and who was a practicing Veela, you fall under that edict."

Hermione's eyes lost their sparkle and shine. They turned from amber to a deep, cold brown. She stood, her stance suddenly that of a warrior, a fighter. Her weariness gone, she said, "Let me understand you, Sir. Are you saying that my husband was a Veela?"

Before the solicitor could answer, Devlin Halberdsen leaned forward and said, "It's not proper to say, 'a Veela' just 'Veela' and yes, he was. I am. So is, unfortunately, your old friend, Draco Malfoy."

Hermione gasped, turned to Draco, and said, "No."

Draco shrugged with one shoulder. He hadn't intended for her to find out this way, but it was a relatively easy and painless way for her to find out. So be it.

She turned back to the other gentlemen and said, "Be that as it may, it doesn't matter, because you said the law protects them when they marry someone of their own kind. I'm not VEELA," she turned to Devlin, making a point not to say, 'a Veela', "I'm a Muggle-born witch, so the law must not discriminate against me, correct?"

The little man looked at Draco for help. Draco said, "You're on your own with this one, old man."

The man looked at Halberdsen. Hermione turned to the other man and waited. Draco waited as well. While he waited, his feelings of hate for the man wrapped up with his feelings of desire for her, making him feel an antagonism and an enmity that he couldn't quite explain.

Then suddenly, Halberdsen started talking. He told Hermione that her great-grandmother, last name Hansson, was from Sweden, and though she was a Muggle, she was refuted to be an ancestor of the Valkyrie. He said that his branch of Veela had been set to watch her family for centuries, with the hope that someone with magical powers would emerge, to lay claim as the last true descendent of the great Valkyrie warrior princesses.

He told her that she was that person - the last Valkyrie. Jon was made to marry her by his family, but that he failed her. Then the man told her that 'HE' wouldn't fail her, as his cousin had.

The entire time the man spoke, she looked shock, incredulous, with one hand on her chest over her heart, the other hand on her wand. Finally, when he told her that on her twenty-fifth birthday she would 'ascend' to her full powers, but that she would need a male Valkyrie there, or in this case (since no male Valkyrie existed) a male Veela, to help her ascend, or she would die, Hermione Granger did something that shocked Draco Malfoy to his very core.

She walked over to him, took him by his hand and said, "Are you leaving with me, or are you staying here?"

"But…" Draco stuttered.

"You can't leave, Mrs. Hagen," the little solicitor spouted. "We have so much more we need to tell you! Please, you don't understand."

"Malfoy?" she pleaded.

"Granger?" he asked back.

"Don't you even think about walking out that door!" Devlin Halberdsen ordered.

Hermione Granger walked up to Devlin Halberdsen, placed a finger under his nose, and said, "I've never liked you, and I never will! And the funny thing is, I actually believe you, but if I need a Veela, or Veela, to attend me, whatever that means, it will be him," and she pointed to Draco, "and not you," then she pointed back to him.

She took Draco's hand and she walked out the door.

She was still holding his hand as they walked further down the busy sidewalk, only dropping it when they reached the corner. Finally, she turned to Draco and said, "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I believe them, Malfoy! I believe the complete crazy story! However, what did they mean when they said I would need a male Veela to attend me when I ascended?"

Draco swallowed hard again and said, "They, ah, well, it means…hell, Granger. It means I'll have to have sex with you." There. He said it.

Her mouth opened in shock and she Disapparated away, leaving Draco Malfoy alone on the corner of the sidewalk. He cursed, then sighed, then went to go find her.

Because there was so much more to it than that. And because she'd chosen him, after all, hadn't she?


	2. Chapter 2

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Choices Made<strong>

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><p><em>Then light shone from Logafell, <em>

_and from that radiance there came bolts of lightning; _

_wearing helmets at Himingvani [came the valkyries]. _

_Their byrnies were drenched in blood; _

_and rays shone from their spears._

_From Helgakviða Hjörvarðssonar_

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><p>Rubbing her forehead to ward off an impending headache, Hermione closed the giant tome in front of her. For the last week and a half, she had researched as much as she could on Valkyrie, Veela, and how they related to the magical world. She even read some Muggle books on Nordic folklore and mystical tales. And after ten days of reading and research, she wasn't anywhere closer to understanding her dead husband's solicitor's claim that she was the last known Valkyrie.<p>

At first when they told her, she actually believed them for some odd reason. Since then, she'd had time to process their claim and now she didn't know what to think. Seriously – it couldn't be true, could it? How preposterous! Hermione didn't believe in fairytales, folklore, or ancient Nordic gods from olden times. Even though Hermione Granger was a Muggle-born witch, (which in and of itself wasn't easy to comprehend or understand) she did not believe in anything that didn't have tangible, solid proof. And since no proof was offered to her that day in the solicitor's office, she no longer believed their claim!

Moreover, to top everything off, she was coming down with a nasty illness. She hadn't felt up to par for practically months, but this last week had been especially hard. She felt unusually tired, overwrought, and under the weather. She couldn't sleep at night and when she did sleep, she continued to dream that same dream of a lady with a sword, wings, and a white, glowing breastplate. In other words, the dream from her childhood.

It was almost as if the thought that she was some numinous creature was planted in her brain and now she couldn't get rid of it! Her birthday was in a few days, and though she didn't relish the thought of getting older, she was even more hesitant for her twenty-fifth birthday to come because she worried about the things that Jon's cousin and his lawyer had told her.

That was why she was researching everything she could about Valkyrie. She was able to find a few things relating to Valkyrie as mythical creatures, however, she couldn't find anything pertaining to 'ascensions', or about having to have SEX with Draco Malfoy.

Speaking of the ferret, Draco Malfoy supported the claim that she was the last known Valkyrie and he didn't seem especially delusional, or at least not anymore than usual. That worried her, too.

Therefore, for many reasons, she was dreading her upcoming twenty-fifth birthday. Perhaps because she was supposedly going to turn into some warrior princess in a couple of days. She laughed aloud. She wondered…would she have wings? Would she suddenly have special powers?

Of course not.

There was no truth to any of it. She placed her head on her arms and felt tears push against her closed eyelids. She really felt horrid. Her head wanted to explode! She knew she was to meet Harry, Ron, and some other friends in an hour so they could celebrate her birthday a few days early. They were having a surprise party for her, although Ron spilled the beans and she discovered their plan. She wanted to Owl them and cancel but she couldn't do that without an explanation.

What would she say to Harry? '_Hey,__Harry,__guess__what?__I__'__m__the__last__known__Valkyrie,__and__I__might__die__on__or__around__my__birthday__if__I__don__'__t__have__sex__with__Draco__Malfoy,__therefore__I__'__m__going__to__skive__off__my__surprise__party__tonight.__Hope__you__don__'__t__mind.__'_

That was the most outrageous part of the whole ordeal! Who in their right mind would believe in such shite?

Although, what if it were true? What if her twenty-fifth birthday came and she turned into a Valkyrie and she needed a male for some odd reason, just as Malfoy said, and she was all alone.

Looking around the large Wizarding library at her former university, she still felt uneasy and ill. The room where she was sitting was impressive and large, with stained-glass windows, large oak tables, and rows after rows of large books on every subject known to the Wizarding world. If Hermione hadn't yet found an answer to her question here, she probably wouldn't find it anywhere.

When she went to school here, she used to find this place peaceful – serene. An insightful stillness would fall over the occupants who came here, a shared knowledge that the only noise one should make was the occasional turning of a page or expelling of a breath.

Nonetheless, today she found that silence deeply disturbing and overwhelming. Perhaps it was because she couldn't find the answers to her questions. Perhaps it was because her head ached something fierce. Perhaps it was because she had an uncanny feeling that she was being watched. Hermione didn't want to look around to see if her feeling was accurate, but she did. As soon as she looked up, she wished that she hadn't, because sitting at a table two rows from her was none other than Draco Malfoy.

He was regarding her with a look that gave her chills. His stare, ever perceptive, with sharp grey eyes, penetrated her thinly veiled veneer and she paused with her reading, her hands shaking. She groaned, loudly and long. Dropping the heavy book off her lap onto the floor, where it landed on her foot (it really, really hurt) she quickly got up, gathered her things and started to leave.

Her chest felt tight, constricted, and bound. Her skin was overly sensitive to light and touch. Even though she avoided his stare, she knew he was still watching her, and just his subtle gaze felt like a soft stroke to her cheek, her hand, her breast. She could swear that she felt his lips upon hers. What madness was this? She had never particularly liked Draco Malfoy, yet that day in the solicitor's office she sought him out for comfort, and just now, she found herself entertaining desirous thoughts about him.

Bumping her hip against the table, she cursed silently and then turned the corner to leave through the back exit. She would Disapparate away from there.

.

Draco watched Hermione closely. She seemed agitated. His gaze moved carefully over her features – her eyes, her face, her chest, her hands. All seemed well, almost too good to be true, yet she was troubled, which troubled him. There was something about the way she carried herself that made him want to reach out and help her.

He knew that Devlin Halberdsen was following her as well, because he had seen the man all week long, but as far as Draco knew, this was the first time she had seen Draco. Of course, he wanted her to see him this time. The moment their eyes met, he knew that she felt the same pull that he felt, whether she wanted to feel it or not.

The instant she stood to leave, he followed her with his eyes, and then stood as well. When she started for the back exit, he stalked after her. She couldn't leave. It wasn't safe for her. He had to reason with her. He had to make her see the truth.

He had to have her for his own.

That last thought came on so strong and sudden it almost blinded him. Where had that come from? Following her down the back stairs, he smelled the same combination of strawberries and passion fruit that he smelled in the solicitor's office. He knew that many times when Veela met their mates they would smell certain smells attributed only to them.

That realisation only challenged Draco to follow her, but nothing more. He would see her through this transition, or ascension, because his father deemed it so, but he WOULD not MATE with her. How barbaric. How archaic. How insane.

Yet that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted her on a level that he didn't understand.

She placed several large books on a cart by the exit and as he watched her, he thought that she was perfect. She was beautiful. Fierce. Loyal. Independent and strong. She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Her body was made to be worshipped. She was delicate, like the finest cut glass, and her temperament was like quicksilver – ever changing from one extreme to another. Yet these were things that he'd always known about her, so when had this desire for her started? Most importantly, why was she leaving him? She was about to slip away into the night and he couldn't let that happen.

He called out her name. "GRANGER!"

She stopped right before she opened the door, before she Disapparated away. Turning toward him, she leaned against the door, eyes wide, mouth open, her scent surrounding him everywhere as he walked closer, closer.

"Why are you haunting my every waking moment?" he asked tersely. That wasn't at all what he meant to say, but it was out of his mouth before he could edit his thoughts.

Her hands fisted at her side, and she looked at him with annoyance and condescension. She accused, "You're the one following me, Draco Malfoy, and I want it to stop!"

"You aren't going to find out anything about what's going to happen to you from books because no one really knows what's going to happen to you," he levelled, grabbing her left arm with his right hand.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (to keep from screaming at him, he was certain) she looked at his hand on her arm, then back up at his face. Her stare lingered for a few too many seconds on his mouth, and his body stiffened. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. Her mouth was round, her lips red, plush and full. He felt as if all the air was sucked right out of his lungs merely from an innocent glance to his lips. With his groin tightening, he placed his other hand on her other arm and pulled her even closer.

Desire swirled around him, but she looked afraid, so he took a step back, keeping his hands on her arms. She said, "Let me go, Malfoy. I feel ill."

"You're not ill," he said in a whisper. "Let me help you."

Her eyes flashed fire as she tried to squirm from his grasp. "You're the last person I would want to help me," she said, though all fight seemed to have left her voice.

"Why did you embrace me when you saw me at the lawyer's office?" Draco asked suddenly. "Why did you leave with me?" Did she feel the same budding feelings that he felt? A powerful bond, unanticipated, but irrefutable, was forming between them, and it started from the moment she walked into the solicitor's office and it was even stronger now. It was strange to have these feelings for a woman that he used to hate, but they were there and he couldn't deny them, and he suspected that she couldn't deny them either.

"Listen, Malfoy, I was under the weather that day, too. I didn't know what I was doing," she said, leaning into him. She closed her eyes. "I still don't, so, please, please, let me go." She seemed defeated.

"I'm not sure I can," he admitted.

Hermione placed a hand on his chest and he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving her face, even though her eyes were still closed.

He was going to kiss her. He had to. He had to know if what he felt was real. In all likelihood, she would hex him to next week if he took liberties with her, but he didn't care. A tremor went through him at the thought of her body next to his.

Pulling her completely into his embrace, she opened her eyes finally, a small sound of surprise leaving her lips. That was all the invitation he needed. His mouth descended onto hers as her lips parted. He kissed her softly, separating her lips gently with his, almost as if it was her first kiss and he didn't want to scare her.

He kissed her with a deep knowledge that this was right and real. He took possession of her mouth, delving deeper, his tongue sweeping the inside of her lips, her mouth, and her teeth. She grasped his shoulders – she was almost limp in his arms.

Some primitive need arose in him. She was everything to him, this woman in his arms. The need to take her, protect her, make her his was overwhelming. The scent and taste of her unsettled him and shattered his self-control. Stopping, he pushed her up against the wall, dropped his head to her shoulder, and released her lips on a sigh, ever so reluctantly, and sooner than he wanted.

She was breathing as hard as he was, her hands clasping the front of his shirt. He forced his hands from her arms up to the wall, near her head. Slowly, they seemed to open their eyes at the same time. Staring at each other, neither knew what to say.

Then the spell was broken when she pushed him away from her and rushed out the back door. Composing himself, he followed. A moment later, another man followed them as well.

.

Hermione went to her parent's house. She knew from Ron that either he or Harry were to pick her up for her 'surprise party' there, so if she hurried, she would have time to do a bit more investigating of this whole 'Valkyrie' thing before she was to meet her friends.

Apparating to the back garden, she walked in the garden doors and saw her father in a comfortable armchair, doing a crossword puzzle. With the feel of Draco's kiss still burning her lips, she knocked on the doorjamb and smiled. "Hello Daddy. Where's Mum?"

"I think she said something about getting your birthday present," he said with a wink.

Hermione didn't want to be reminded of her birthday. She tried to smile, but then said, "Do you think Mummy would mind if I went up to the attic and had a look at some of her grandmother's old belongings? They're still up in that old brown trunk, aren't they?"

"Her grandmother Hansson?" he asked. "The grandmother from her mother's side?"

She nodded and added, "I think I'll pop upstairs and have a look at something. I won't be but a moment." Not waiting for a reply, she dashed up the stairs and once on the landing she Apparated to the attic.

It was dark and dusty upstairs. It was also unusually warm. She found the trunk easily, pulled it to the middle of the large attic space, and opened it with her wand. Rummaging inside, she didn't even know what she was looking for, however she spied what looked like an old journal, several yellowed envelopes tied up with string, as well as a black bound book of Nordic folklore. As she was about to close the trunk, she noticed something shiny sticking partway in the lining of the lid, and partway out.

Pulling on the item, she noticed it was a round, golden emblem with a fine golden chain. A medallion of some sort, she couldn't remember ever having seen it before, yet when she was little she must have gone through this trunk with her mother several times, each time thinking it was some sort of treasure trove. There was a picture of some kind, as well as raised words, on the medallion. Taking the medallion as well as the journals, letters and the ancient looking book in her arms, she closed the lid with a loud bang and stood to leave.

Then it felt like she was hit by lightning.

Pain lacerated her entire body. Bright, white spots appeared before her eyes, and she swayed and fell to the musty old, wooden floor of the attic. Everything that was in her arms dropped around her on the floor, save for the medallion. It remained clutched tightly in her right hand.

Then she had a vision.

A woman with long, flowing hair rode upon a large white horse. But the horse wasn't a normal horse, for it flew in the sky without wings. The woman had a gold-plated breastplate of armor on her body, which shined brightly, making it appear as if a white glow emitted from it. Upon the woman's body, she wore a gossamer skirt, which looked as if it were made with fine, flowing feathers. In her right hand, she carried a long spear, and in her left, she carried a red book. She flew higher and higher up in the sky, an eagle following her on side, a white vulture on the other. There was blood dripping off the end of the sword, and across her lap was an unconscious man, with golden blond hair.

Magnificent white wings opened from her back and as she rode higher and higher into the sky, the clouds parted for her, the sunrays shone down upon her, and it was only then that she turned around and looked right down at Hermione, who was still on the floor.

Except the woman staring down at her wasn't a stranger. It was her – staring down at – her.

"Sweetheart, open your eyes." Hermione's mother patted her daughter's cheek and told her husband to get a wet cloth to place upon her head.

With a groan, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Her mouth felt dry, she was sweating profusely, and when she opened her eyes completely she realized she was no longer on the floor of the attic. She was in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by familiar faces –her mother, her father and – wait, Draco Malfoy?

Thinking she was still dreaming, she closed her eyes again, batting her mother's hands away with one of her hands. Finally, she opened them again, saw the same three people, winced, and then sat up with the aid of her father.

"What happened?" she asked. Her hand was still clenched around the medallion. She had no clue where the book, journal and letters were.

"We found you on the floor of the attic. Your friend Mr. Malfoy carried you down here. What happened, Hermione?" her father asked.

Shaking her head, she moved so her legs draped across the side of the bed. The thought that Draco Malfoy was here, in her one safe haven, and had carried her down from the attic, no less, was disheartening. She had spent most of her life despising the man, and now she felt a fierce hunger and overwhelming desire for him.

"I'm overworked, that's all, and well, I haven't been feeling well." She looked up at Malfoy, who didn't look particularly happy with her admission. Well, the feeling was mutual. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she whispered so only he could hear as her mother said something to her father.

Frowning, he leaned down to her and in hushed tones said in return, "Apparently, your parents think I'm here to pick you up for your surprise party. I'm your date, I guess."

She groaned, closed her eyes, and then she ran from the bedroom to the bathroom where she promptly threw up.

.

Draco winced, but then he smiled at her parents. "I hope she has a toothbrush in there, since she's sick and all," he said, thinking that she would need to brush her teeth after having vomited. He felt stupid as soon as he said it, but hell, these were Muggles. They were probably used to stupid things.

Her father said, "We're dentists, so yes, she has a toothbrush." The man gave Draco a daunting look and then left the room.

Draco forgot what a dentist was for a moment, then he looked at Hermione's mother and said, "Oh yes, a Muggle medical practitioner for the teeth, right?"

Hermione mother smiled and nodded. Walking over to the bathroom door, she poked her head inside, checked on her daughter (who WAS brushing her teeth), closed the door promptly and then asked, "Mr. Malfoy, are you the one who is going to help my daughter with her ascension?"

Draco knew his mouth was hanging open – but hell, he was shocked by her mother's question. How did she know about these things, especially as Hermione didn't seem to know? Before he could put that question to answer, the older woman said, "You seem shocked that I should know of my own ancestry, Mr. Malfoy."

Glancing over his shoulder toward the closed door to the loo, Draco said, "Pardon, Mrs. Granger, but what I'm shocked about is that your daughter knows nothing of your ancestry, as it is."

Nodding slightly, she sat on the bed. With a low sigh, she bent at the waist and picked up the journal and pile of letters, which had fallen there when Draco had placed Hermione upon her bed. Handing them to Draco, she said, "I was never quite sure what I should tell her. I was never completely certain of what was real and what wasn't. I knew my granny told me stories, but that was all I ever thought they were, stories, which were passed down from my mother to Hermione, too. I never once entertained thoughts that they could be real until one day, when my bright, ambitious, beautiful little girl received a letter from a school called Hogwarts, saying that she was a witch."

Standing, Hermione's mum picked up the battered black book of Nordic folklore and placed it in Draco's hands along with the letters and the journal. Without another word or explanation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Draco looked at the bevy of items in his hands, then he spied Hermione's purse by the bed. He placed the items within, picked up the purse and knocked on the bathroom door. "Granger?"

When she didn't answer, he opened the door and peered inside. The room was empty. She had left without him. Good thing he knew where they were holding this surprise party, thanks to what her mum and dad had told him when he first arrived at their house. She wasn't getting away from him this easily. He huffed loudly, gathered her things and he Disapparated away.

The other man remained outside the house, having not known that Draco and Hermione had left.


	3. Chapter 3

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – A Vow of Silence<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Helmeted valkyries came down from the sky <em>

—_the noise of spears grew loud—they protected the prince; _

_then said Sigrun—the wound-giving valkyries flew, _

_the troll-woman's mount was feasting on the fodder of ravens_

* * *

><p>Draco walked into the well-lit pub in Diagon Alley and scanned the room for Granger and her friends. It took him over an hour to find out where they were going to be, but now that he was here, a bitter sense of calm overcame him as he honed in on her right away. The moment he saw her he saw more than the bossy little swot whom he'd known from school. He saw a slightly vulnerable, winsome, strong, woman with emotional depths in her character of the likes he would never know, along with a confidence that was often feigned.<p>

At first, he resented the fact that his father suggested Draco mate with her, as if it was of no consequence that this was a woman he once hated, although hate was such a strong word.

Now he saw how incredibly spectacular she really was. Soon, every Veela in Great Britain and beyond would be beating down a path to her door, and he knew why. It wasn't because they were drawn to her because she was the last Valkyrie. It wasn't because she had a passion and a desire buried beneath her in which every single one of them would give a king's ransom to unbury. It wasn't because she was a prize, or a trophy, or because she was the last of her kind.

It was more, much more, and as testament to that fact, even as he scanned the crowd, his body grew tighter and tighter at the thought of discovering each layer of her appeal, of taking off her uptight clothing, peeling off the layers of her façade, and kissing those ripe, full lips until they were red and willing. Placing her full, heavy breasts in his hands, and burying his body into hers until they were both brought to the heights of pleasure.

He almost gasped at the thoughts that were overtaking his mind, and then instinctively, he turned around when he felt HER hand on his arm.

"Draco, sweetheart, I thought you would never come," Hermione said to Draco as soon as he entered the pub.

Highly suspicious and slightly sick at the word 'sweetheart', Draco decided to remain silent and play along with her. Otherwise, she might Disapparate away again, and it took him too long to discover her whereabouts tonight, and he wasn't about to let her slip from his fingers again.

He looked over toward a table and saw all of her little friends…Potter, Weasley, and the rest…and they looked as confused as he felt by her actions. Then his confusion was pushed aside by a baser emotion when the fingertips that were on his arm moved up to his shoulder and the side of her body came into contact with the side of his.

She gripped his shoulder tighter with her hand. He knew she meant something by that 'grip', so he looked down into her warm, brown eyes, and her oval face, and that same smell from earlier overtook him, except this time he thought it might be the scent of lilies and honey. Whatever it was, it was exquisite, as was the sparks that seemed to jump from the copper and burnished gold streaks in her chestnut brown hair.

All he thought in that moment was that he had never particularly wanted or needed a home or a wife, but something about this woman beside him made him crave both. Pure instinct? Animal Lust? Veela heritage? Draco didn't care.

He placed his larger hand upon Hermione's smaller hand, leaned down slightly and over the drone of voices in the pub whispered, "What's going on?"

"Please, play along," she pleaded.

He raised his head only a fraction, then he heard a man say, "Didn't expect to see you here, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed the bile that almost raised in his throat, turned slightly and said, "No? Well I did expect to see you, Halberdsen. You've been following Granger around everywhere lately."

Hermione stiffened beside him at that comment. Draco could tell that was a surprise to her. Good. The fact that she had called him, 'Sweetheart' came as a surprise to him, so let her be surprised, too.

Devlin snorted and announced, "So have you, Malfoy." He looked at Hermione, placed a hand on her elbow to turn her away from her friends so he could speak without them hearing and he said, "I've merely been following you for protection. You have no idea the consequences of what might happen between now and your birthday in three days! Any Veela male may try to take you and claim you. You're not safe, Cousin."

Hermione glared at the male, and then looked down at the hand on her arm, which Draco was already imagining, removing in many different ways. Then she said, "I've researched Veela and Valkyrie -– so I think I do know what's about to happen – and I don't need YOU to protect me. I've already told you that." She pulled her arm free of his hand.

He huffed and said, "And you do need Malfoy?"

"We've decided to mate," Draco said, almost wanting to laugh at how ludicrous that sounded coming from his mouth, yet for some insane reason, it sounded right – proper – the way it should be.

And he knew Granger wouldn't refute that claim here in front of Halberdsen, hence the way she greeted him in front of her friends. Taking a chance, Draco turned to her and said, "By the way, sorry I was late, Apple Cheeks, but I was with your parents. Once your father starts talking about toothbrushes, well, you just can't get the man to stop."

Hermione looked as if she was about to tell Draco off or slap his face… perhaps she didn't like the moniker 'Apple Cheeks', so he took advantage of the fact that her mouth was already slightly open and he pulled her into his arms. She was made for him. She fit him exactly – like a lost puzzle piece – on a missing button to a coat. The shock of it rippled through his entire body, sizzled through his soul, and caused his heart to beat out of time.

Her face turned upwards, and he placed one hand on the side of it, caressing her cheek, and then let that hand slide down to her neck, around her nape, to the back of her head to tangle in her hair, even as his other hand went around to her back to press her tighter against his him. Her hands held the front of his coat tightly in their grip, as he lowered his head… slower…. slower… then finally, his mouth was on top of hers.

The kiss was amazing. It was unbelievable, and immediately poignant. His entire body felt as if it were on fire, yet her lips were cool and soft. Even though it was chaste, as far as kisses go, it still made him think of how she would be in bed. It made him imagine her body under his, him on top, buried deep inside her.

Kissing her was like a promise, but then she moved away and the promise was broken.

Hermione was trembling slightly, with a hand on her lips. Draco wanted to tell her not to give it away. He didn't want Halberdsen to know that kissing him wasn't an every day, every moment, and every second occurrence. Therefore, he smiled at her, challenging her to understand, and she did, for she said, "I hope that kiss isn't all you got me for my birthday, Malfoy."

"Not at all, Honey Buns. I have something special for you when we get home," Draco smiled. Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, but didn't reply.

Then she smiled and moved over to her friends, leaving the two Veela males to themselves. Draco could detect a spark of jealousy and anger from Halberdsen. The other man said, "Have you officially claimed her?"

"She hasn't ascended yet," Draco said with iron in his voice. "But make no mistake, Halberdsen. She is mine." At that moment, Draco meant every word.

"We'll see about that," the other man said. "Does she know that she has to go to Vanaheim for the ascension, or she might not survive it?"

"No, but I plan on telling her tonight," Draco retorted. "You let me worry about that."

DevlinHalberdsen nodded toward Draco and then Disapparated away. Draco looked over toward the little table where Granger and her friends were celebrating her birthday, three days early, and she looked up and caught his eye. And she smiled at him.

A man could fall in love with her merely from her smile.

He wanted to believe that his feelings for her were real, and not exaggerated by all of the magic from her upcoming ascension, and because he was part Veela, and she was part Valkyrie. He wanted that from the tips of his toes to his brainstem.

Turning away from the main room, he went toward the front door and looked outside. Good, his father's men where still stationed there. Nodding toward one, the man came forward. Draco told him, "Take a message immediately to my father. I'm going to try to convince Granger that we need to leave for Vanaheim tonight. Ask him for his advice."

Draco didn't wait for a response from the man. He merely walked back into the pub, and ran right into the woman of his desires, Hermione Granger. Bringing his arms up to steady her, he said, "Sorry, Granger, I almost knocked you over."

"Who were you talking to out there?"

"No one in particular," he lied. "Were your friends shocked that you kissed me?" He grinned, which then turned more into a sarcastic smirk.

She hit his chest and said, "You know they were! I haven't told them any of this Valkyrie or Veela rubbish yet!"

Cocking his head to one side, he asked, "Rubbish?"

"Rubbish," she repeated. "I have another question for you, and I hope you answer this one with more honesty than you did the last one. When I was at my parents' house, I found a journal, some old letters, and a medallion. They were in my great-grandmother's trunk. I think they're pertinent to the subject at hand. I have the medallion still, but I left the others at the house. Please tell me you have them."

"You mean you left them when you snuck out of the house like a coward?" he teased, pulling on a long strand of her hair. Goodness, but he found her appealing, and on more than just a masculine level. She was appealing to him on a primitive level as well.

"I'm not a coward, DracoMalfoy!" she protested.

"Forgive me, Hermione Granger. You're right. No one can ever call you that." He dropped the strand of hair and picked up her hand, turning it over so he could see her palm. Without hesitation, he drew her palm toward his face and then kissed the center of her hand. The skin on her palm was deliciously soft and agile. Would it be that way everywhere? Ruthless, demanding hunger stirred in his veins, striking every nerve with little bolts of lightning, then settling in his groin, and pressing on his lungs.

She pulled her hand away slowly, looked at her palm, as if she could see the searing remains of his kiss, then said, "I forgive you," so softly that he wasn't sure he heard it.

Wrapped in his desire and want for her, he forgot about her friends sitting only a short distance away. He forgot about all the other people in the pub. He no longer registered any noise. There was nothing but silence, her, and him. And when she raised her gaze to look back up into his eyes, a singular awareness simmered in them both.

This was right. No matter what. This was right.

He answered, "I have the things you dropped, along with your purse. They're at my flat. Let's go there now and I'll give them to you." If he could only get her away from her here and her friends, he could take her to Vanaheim and they could start everything and then it would soon all be over and done!

**.**

DracoMalfoy's kiss shook her completely. It didn't embarrass her, as she thought it might, but it did make her feel slightly wicked. It made her feel claimed, desired, and wanted. Those were all things she had never felt when she was married to Jonathon.

When she saw Devlin at the pub and he told her that he would wait and escort her home so he could speak to her in private, she almost wanted to groan. She didn't want to involve her friends in this nasty business until she knew if it was real. In addition, she knew she could handle Devlin easily, so she agreed to talk to him, although secretly, in her mind, while she was celebrating with her friends, she was trying to come up with ways of leaving without Devlin knowing about it.

Then, DracoMalfoy walked in the pub. She knew it was he the moment the door opened. It was as if a gush of wind blew a scent toward her, and she looked toward the door and there he was. Acting on pure instinct, she got up from the booth, walked over toward him, and greeted him as a lover… an intimate.

And yes, she intended to kiss him, so that Devlin would leave. She intended a light, superficial, nothing little kiss. What she didn't intend was a kiss that claimed her mind, body and soul. She didn't intend to sink into the taste and scent of the man, so much that her knees grew weak and a burning pit of desire whirled in her stomach.

This was DracoMalfoy! Moreover, this was the second time she had wanted to retreat into the confines of his arms for protection… or perhaps the third. Maybe even the fourth, if she counted her parents' house. Thinking about it gave her a pang of sadness – because it wasn't real. Her feelings were jumbled up with all this ascension magic, Veela, and Valkyrie. She wanted to be in love, and even though something told her that she was in love – she knew in her brain that this wasn't love – it was lust.

And that made her unrepentantly sad.

It also made her angry. She wasn't going to let another man ruin her life the way Jonathon had.

"Draco, I'm not going anywhere with you. Please, just return my things to me by tomorrow, alright?" She turned to walk back to her friends, but he placed a hand on her arm.

"Granger," he started, "your birthday's in three days."

Sighing, she turned back to face him. "I'm highly aware of that fact."

The air between them was thick and humming with something strange, a tension, something taut and slightly unnerving. Hermione noticed for the first time what an amazing physical presence Malfoy had. He was so tall, and broad, and very handsome. She realized she had always thought these things, and was thankful that at least these thoughts weren't confused with the magic of whatever was happening here.

"What are you thinking?" he asked with a slight smile.

"That I don't even know you, but that I want to, but that I want to know the real you," she answered honestly.

He looked slightly puzzled for a moment. "You've known me most of your life, Granger. Also, I'm slightly transparent. I'm easy to read. There's not much to know."

"What a succinct and precise answer," she quipped, "But is it true?" It was at that moment that she realized that he still had her hand. He was rubbing his thumb over the top, and the sensation was sending waves of seductive want over every nerve in her body.

"Ah, Granger, only you can find that out," he replied, retaining her hand. "Why don't you come with me, and we can spend some time together getting to know each other. We can discuss what you've found out about Veela and Valkyrie in your little books, and I can tell you what I've found out."

"Leave my own party?" she asked incredulously. "That would be terribly rude." But somehow, she wanted to leave with him. She wanted to know more about him, and what he knew about Valkyrie. What he knew about her upcoming ascension. What he knew about her recurring dream – was it real? The thought of it all made her tremble.

Draco smiled at her, released he hand, and placed an arm around her. "Are you cold? You shivered. Anyway, I don't think it would be so terribly rude to leave, I mean, seriously, it seems like a dreadfully dull party," he teased.

His smile seemed so warm. Intimate. Dazzlingly. Abruptly, she was suffused with heat again. That darn fever was back. Stumbling slightly, she fell against him, even with his arm around her body. His smile slipped from his face, replaced with a look of concern, perhaps even anger.

HarryPotter ran up to them and asked, "What's going on here? What's wrong with her?"

"It's happening, Potter. Just as the Minister of Magic and my father told you. Her ascension. It's happening, and we don't have much time," Draco responded.

Hermione hardly had time to question how Harry knew of things that she herself only just discovered. Pain hovered in the corner of her mind, and her body felt constricted and oddly numb. She couldn't move. She felt as if she couldn't even speak. Leaning more against Draco, she was aware that he picked her up and held her in his arms, her head against his shoulder, her body against his chest.

"What do you need to do?" Harry asked.

Draco said one word to Harry. "Vanaheim." Harry nodded and said, "I have everything ready, Malfoy. There's a boat waiting to take you across, and Aurors for your protection."


	4. Chapter 4

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 4 – A Whisper upon the Wind**

_There I perceive Valkyries and ravens,_

_Accompany the wise Victory tree,_

_To the drink of the holy offering,_

_Within thee appeared these motifs._

Draco watched Hermione as she walked quietly and somberly in front of him along the docks toward a large vessel that would take them across the North Sea. The waters and the skies were unusually quiet tonight. And it would appear Hermione Granger's current mood matched that of the water perfectly, as she too was unusually quiet. He feared her reserve and thoughtfulness were forced façades, and that her true feelings would burst forward the closer they got to Vanaheim.

At least that was his hope.

When he and Harry Potter took her from the pub to her flat, to help her prepare for this trip tonight (with the help of two of his father's men), she fought like a banshee, but soon she grew tired – she couldn't help it – because she was so close to her ascension. Lethargy and exhaustion had already taken root inside her body and soul. Draco felt her weariness as surely as if it was his own.

By the time they reached the shores of Vanaheim tomorrow morning it would only be two days before her birthday so they had precious little time left to waste. Draco feared what might take place once they arrived, and he didn't want her to be fragile or tired. Draco wished he could get her to Sweden another way – a quicker way – a thought shared by her when they stepped up on the large cutter aptly called _My Heart's Desire. _Stepping upon the deck, she turned to Draco and asked, "Why can't we Apparate or take a Portkey? It would be quicker that way."

"Two reasons," he said sharply, taking her elbow and guiding her toward the stern of the ship, away from Potter and the other Veela men who were stepping on the ship after them. "You'll find that your magic is unreliable, if not even failing at the moment, in case you haven't noticed, especially the closer we get to your twenty-fifth birthday. Likewise, Vanaheim is warded so well that we wouldn't be able to Apparate inside the city, or even close to it, say to Stockholm. It's just easier that we cross the North Sea, and then I'll Disapparate us to Sweden, and we'll take a car from there to Vanaheim."

With a mixture of exasperation and frustration, Hermione sighed and said, "I hate boats."

"Good thing this is a ship," Draco said sarcastically, guiding her further upon the deck. He was aware of several crewmembers staring at them. He wasn't certain who was friend and who was foe, so for now, he would consider everyone here as a danger to them. He knew that Potter had arranged this private clipper, but that didn't mean that the crewmembers could be trusted. At this point, Draco didn't trust anyone, not even his father's people.

Hermione suddenly shrugged off his hand and said, "I'd rather you not touch me right now, Malfoy."

"What?" he almost exploded. "You didn't mind my tongue touching your tonsils earlier tonight when I was kissing you," he said harshly.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Yes, well, that may have been a mistake. I've been thinking about all of this ascension business and I'm not sure it makes sense to me. Just because I'm allowing you to take me to some magical city in Sweden doesn't mean I'm going to let you sleep with me."

"I thought we've been through this," Draco gritted through his teeth, aware that they were being watched by members of the crew as the boat gently launched from the peer. "You believed me before, and you seemed to believe me the day you left the solicitor's office. You're the last known Valkyrie; even your own Mother believes it to be so." He felt frustrated that he had to try to convince her of this.

A false smile graced her lips. "I do believe that part, just not the rest of it, not yet. We'll wait and see."

"Wait and see if you die, do you mean?" he blasted. Draco suddenly felt baffled and angry by her refusal to see what was clearly in front of her. Why was she acting so obstinate all of the sudden?

Hermione turned away from him and explained, "It's only that I was thinking while I was packing, when you and Harry left to get your own things, and I want to be certain of a few things first."

Draco almost moaned, but he decided to wait and hear what she had to say. "Go on."

With her back still toward him, she said, "I've already had one bad marriage, where our hearts weren't fully engaged, and I would hate to get into something like that again. You know, where our feelings weren't genuine."

Draco waited for her to continue. She didn't. "What does your sham of a marriage have to do with anything?"

She looked over her shoulder at him just as the wind blew her hair in her face. The moon bounced off her brown hair and her pale skin, making her almost appear to glow with an ethereal light. He felt a pang deep in his heart. If that wasn't real – genuine – then he didn't know what was.

"Let's take one step at a time," he mumbled, forcing his breathing to calm. She could pretend that 'feelings weren't engaged' if she wanted, but he knew what he was beginning to feel for her and it was real and very 'engaged'. "For now, let's worry about getting to Vanaheim and about your ascension."

She turned to him. "But that's the thing, Malfoy. Right after you left to pack, before you came back for me, Devlin stopped by, and he said there's no proof that my ascension will be anything like a Veela ascension, so we don't know I'll need your help. He also pointed out that you're only helping me for self-serving reasons." With a pleading look, she turned back toward the open sea as if she could no longer face him.

However, Draco placed his hand on her arm and turned her around, because he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "First, you supposed bookworm, I know you read every book on Veela you could find in that University library, and so you know it's just Veela, not 'A VEELA', as I've already pointed out. Second, you little twat, you're right, we don't know what it'll be like, since there's not been a known Valkyrie in like two hundred years."

He tightened his hold on her arm, though she tried to wrench it free. "THIRD, what are you doing letting that idiot within a centimetre of you? Don't you see that he has more of an ulterior motive for wanting you to come to Vanaheim than anyone else?" He tightened his hold on her arm. "Now I've lost my train of thought… where was I? Oh yes, what is known from history, Valkyrie ascension is supposedly worse than Veela ascension, and if that's true, than you'll be begging me to help you by the end of it!"

He pushed her away from him. "Do you seriously think I wanted this added responsibility? Do you think I wanted to baby-sit YOU of all people? I didn't want to be put in the invidious position, but my father and the other members of the Veela council selected me, so here I am! Actually, I remember you selecting me outside the solicitor's office or don't you recall that?"

Draco stared in her eyes and they shined back at him bright as diamonds. He was messing up everything – the unshed tears in her eyes were evidence of that and even as he said it, he knew that wasn't the only reason he was here. It sounded empty and hollow, but he didn't know what else to say to her. He didn't know how to reach her, convince her that he cared for her or what to say to waylay her fears.

Before he could think to say anything else, she pushed him and he stumbled toward the railing. She shouted, "I'm sorry you find me so repulsive and the thought of helping me is so repugnant to you. I didn't ask you to come with me! Why are you here if that's how you feel?"

Hermione started to walk away, upset that he was being cruel and dismissive to her. She thought she 'felt' something for him and she assumed he had felt something in return for her. She was almost away from him when he reached a hand out and snaked it around her wrist. She gazed back into his face.

"I'm here, madam," he seethed between clenched teeth, "because… because, well, I'm not certain you would understand why I'm here right now, Granger, but I am!"

Now, both his hands were on her upper arms, and lightheadedness nearly overtook her. They were standing so close that their breathing was intermingled. She was overcome with a strange scent – a citrus smell – and though she saw anger in his eyes, she knew she saw something else there as well. Something primitive. Something raw. Once again, his mere closeness dwarfed all her senses. His physical presence felt like a tidal wave engulfing her heart and body, leaving her feeling weak and defenseless and she hated feeling that way.

Weak and defenseless were two feelings that no one would ever associate with Hermione Granger. And they were certainly two emotions she would never associate with herself, nonetheless, they were two sensations she felt at this exact moment, along with anger, fear, and confusion.

She especially hated feeling confusion, which she felt even stronger when he drew her closer and bent his head to kiss her.

But she wasn't going to let HIS false feelings that were apparently full of anger and lust rule what she felt for him, or what he felt for her, so she pushed him away again, as hard as she could, even though the simple action caused her heart to plummet to the soles of her feet.

For that reason alone, she suggested, "Don't you dare try to kiss me when you don't really want to be here! And don't you try to deny it, because we both know it's true. The boat just left port! You can Disapparate back to London right now if you wish!"

Suddenly, a man standing to their left and said, "That sounds like a splendid idea to me, Malfoy. Why don't you do just that? I'll see her safely to Vanaheim."

Draco glared hard at Devlin Halberdsen. "How did you get here? It's a private boat!"

"I told him he could travel with us," revealed Harry as he walked up beside all three of them.

"WHY?" Draco's anger kindled brighter at that admission regarding one man (whom he didn't like), from another man (whom he didn't like even more).

There was a long, deep almost deafening silence, when finally Harry said, "I thought it would be better if we all traveled together. That way, I could keep an eye on everyone and everything."

Halberdsen smiled at that admission from Harry. "I'm not certain why you think you need to keep an eye on me, Potter. I only have my cousin's welfare at heart, I assure you."

"She's not your cousin, and she's made her choice, as did the Veela council, so you need to leave!" Draco concluded fiercely, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. He voiced his frustration aloud, "How did everything get so out of control? I thought this would be a nice little boat ride, but nothing's simple with Hermione Granger."

"It's a ship, not a boat," Hermione mocked, repeating what he had told her earlier. Rubbing a hand over her own hair, which was blowing around her face, she said, "Listen, gentlemen, all of you. I can take care of myself." She said it to convince herself as much to convince the group of men around her.

"In addition, I didn't make any sort of choice, or claim, no matter what a group of Veela on some council decided. As far as I can tell, no matter what some ancient law dictates… article nine, statue 12, etcetera, etcetera, whatever, whatever… Veela and Valkyries are a sub-group of a common species, but they aren't considered the same magical species, so your little group of creatures have no pull over me, so poo on all of you! Now, if you'll all excuse me, I believe this trip will take us a few hours, it's almost nighttime and I'm cold and tired. I intend to find a deck chair and have a small rest."

She walked away from the men, toward the front of the ship, found an empty chair, and sat down. Devlin turned to Draco. "I don't know why the council felt they needed to encumber you with this task, Malfoy, when there were perfectly good Veela in her own family who could attend her. As soon as we reach the city of Vanaheim, I intend to petition to have her placed under my authority."

Draco started to respond, when instead, Harry Potter laughed and said, "Good luck with that, Halberdsen. You don't know Hermione Granger very well. As she said, she's not going to answer to you or your council. I'm going below deck. I feel a bit seasick."

After Harry walked away Draco added, "And you don't know me very well, either, Halberdsen. If you think I'm going to relinquish my claim that easily, you're mad."

"Power hungry, just like your father," Halberdsen leered. "We all know whichever Veela ends up with the last Valkyrie will be the strongest Veela for centuries. The most powerful Veela with the most powerful bloodline and blood has always been important to the Malfoys."

Draco couldn't deny that was the reason his father wanted him to undertake this task, but he wanted to do this now for his own reasons. He merely couldn't articulate them. That was all.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_I realize it's a short chapter, and you had to wait a long time for it, but there will be another chapter (it's already written) in two days BUT it will be posted first at h t t p : / / the maple__bookshelf dot com / Literati / _

_(You may not have to put the last part ... Literati and the slash. I don't know.)_

_So if you want to read it quicker, visit that new site. After the chapter is posted there in it's entirety for a week, then I'll post the rest of it over here. I will post it there first from now on. It's a new site, just up and running and I promised them I would do that. I also told them I would try to post a short story a week, (I've already posted one very short story there, which isn't here yet) although that may be a hard thing to do. It's not only a HP site, and they are looking for new writers and established writers. You just need to send in a sample of your work. They are also looking for moderators and administrators, if anyone is interested. _

_Please go to the site and contact them, though, not me!_

_I jumped the gun a while back and said they were up and ready when _


	5. Chapter 5

**All characters belong to JK Rowling**

**Chapter 5 – Tears from the Sea**

_What sort of dream is that, Odin?_

_I dreamed I rose up before dawn,_

_To clear up Val-hall for slain people,_

_I aroused the Einheriar,_

_Bade them get up to strew the benches,_

_Clear the beer-cups,_

_The Valkyries to serve the wine,_

_For the arrival of the Prince_

_._

Draco searched the aft deck of the ship for Hermione and found her standing near a railing. He could tell from her actions moments before that she was irritable, but frankly, he wasn't at all certain if her irritability was because she was on the cusp of her birthday or because it was part of her personality.

He feared there was more going on inside of her than anger; although knowing her, she would never admit it.

Yet, as he drew closer, he spied her rubbing her forehead with one hand; therefore, he deduced that she must have another headache. She must be tired as well. Since she walked away from him, she must not be up for conversation, which was just as well, as he wasn't either.

Instead, Draco was in the mood for a small bit of mayhem, sprinkled with a twist of murder, topped with a cherry that resembled, remarkably enough, Devlin Halberdsen's head. The fact that Halberdsen was on board with them was enough to make Draco's head ache to the point where it wanted to explode!

He walked closer to Hermione and studied her profile in the waning light of the evening. She arched her back in a supple way, turning her head toward the purple-hued sky, then she gripped the railing with both hands before she brought her head back down, to close her eyes in silent contemplation. Sighing, he neared. That was when he noticed that she wasn't merely silent – not at all – but she was crying.

Draco looked around and noticed a few others watching her… crewmembers, his father's men. He motioned to his father's men that they needed privacy. As the wizards cleared the deck so that Draco was alone with her, he was equally alone in his thoughts, and his thoughts were filled with a blank fog that whirled around his brain, confusing him with over-wrought emotions and desires. He longed to comfort her, but didn't know how. He didn't know if she would accept it.

A giant wave roared against the boat, splashing the front of her lightweight coat and the first thought Draco had was that it was almost as if the sea was crying with her. He walked closer. He had no choice for he was fixated with Hermione Granger.

She chose him – at least in a way. She didn't need to know that it wasn't 'official' yet, or the method in which she really needed to choose him. She would find all of that out soon enough. When the time came (and it would come soon enough), he would be the one to help her with her ascension.

Turning her head toward him as he approached, he wondered if she sensed him. The waves were so loud near the front of the ship that he knew she couldn't have heard his footsteps. Hermione turned her gaze back to the sea, hurrying to wipe her cheeks and eyes with the sleeves of her jacket, while he continued to stare at her. He knew his father wanted him to 'mate' with her for power and prestige. There was an ancient text that stated that if Veela men mated with Valkyrie they would become powerful, wealthy, and respected. Therefore, Lucius Malfoy reasoned (as did all other Veela) that whichever Veela male mated with the LAST Valkyrie would become the most powerful Veela ever. It would give their family power and glory – something Lucius Malfoy always craved.

Although the thought, and even the term 'mating', were antiquated terms that were distasteful to Draco and would surely set Hermione's teeth on edge. He had to admit that at first he pursued her for those reasons. In addition, he wanted to make his father proud of him. Now, there were other reasons, and they were real, even if they were rather new, and even if Granger didn't want to acknowledge it!

The excessive rocking of the boat, along with his overworked brain, had caused the thumping in his head to overwhelm him, so he sat down in a deckchair directly behind Hermione and cradled his head in his hands.

He heard a rustling near him, then a gentle hand in his hair. Her touch felt like a balm calming a fire in his soul.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. She removed her hand and sat near his feet on the edge of his chair.

He caught her crying, yet she wanted to know if something was wrong with him. He should have asked _her_ that question. "I have a headache," he snapped, opening his eyes when she approached closer, her leg touching his arm. His current health situation was only part of his problem. Another part was Halberdsen, and the rest of it was Hermione Granger herself.

A quiet Hermione Granger wasn't normal… it wasn't like her at all, which meant there was a problem. She sat down by his legs on the end of the chair, picked a piece of lint (real or imaginary), off his trouser leg, and said, "I'm sorry I didn't inform you that Devlin was traveling with us. Harry told me on the way to my flat."

"You knew?" He lowered his eyes and watched her hands as they stilled on his leg.

She ignored his question and placed her hand on her own lap. "I also want to thank-you for helping me. You're right. This is odd. The thought of you and I together is odd. We were never even friends before… all throughout school and after school, we were never friends, but when I saw you – that day – in the solicitor's office, you were like a lifeline to me." She looked back out toward the sea, although the sky was now mostly black so darkness was all she could see. "I was feeling so peculiar and out of sorts and I needed something familiar. I think I've been feeling as if I was taking advantage of you, and I feel guilty about that."

He didn't know how to respond to that. "You're so stupid," he finally said.

She turned to him, all humility gone from her face, but he was smiling, so her instant anger ebbed away. He said, "I was thinking somewhat the same things, Granger. I was wondering if perhaps I was taking advantage of you in your current state. However, the thing is, I know you don't want to do this, but I also know you're intelligent enough to realize you don't have a choice. This is real. This is going to happen. With or without me. And I'm not noble enough to tell you that I'll leave if you want me to go. You know that about me. You've know me most of your life. I'm a selfish man, and at first I was doing this for selfish reasons, but you'll just have to believe me when I say that my reasons are different now and that I'm not going anywhere."

He noticed her hands were shaking in her lap. What did that mean? What did any of this mean? He was about to ask her when she said, "Devlin said there are people from Jon's family who could help me."

"He did, huh?" he quipped, balling his hands in fists. He wanted to shake her so badly.

She looked up at him, her expression suddenly so sad and hopeless. "But I'd rather have you help me.

He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to shake her.

"Still, I think I should see Jon's family while I'm there, because they might shed more light on Valkyrie and what's going to happen in two days."

He definitely wanted to shake her again. It took all his self-control not to pull her to him and shake her, then kiss her, then shake her again.

"I feel sorry for Potter," he said.

A confused look graced her face. "Why would you say that?"

"It seems he's been replaced. Halberdsen is now your best friend. Of course, there's one major difference." Draco placed a hand on her neck and pulled her closer. "Potter, for all his faults, isn't a liar, and Halberdsen is. No one knows what's going to happen, Granger. If I knew what was going to happen completely, I would have already found out and told you. I would. You're too smart to fall for anything that man says."

She looked defeated. He'd rarely seen a look like that on her face. Seeing it now made him realize he didn't like it. He wanted to draw her in to his arms, but then she whispered, "Won't you tell me about your ascension?"

He leaned back against the deck chair, closed his eyes again and moved over toward the right side of the chair. Patting the left side next to his hip, he said, "Only if you move closer." It was a silly request, but one he felt they both needed.

She moved closer – so he began.

"Veela males ascend on their twenty-first birthdays. The time of day varies, as does the length. Mine lasted an agonizing eight hours… although it felt like eight years. My body felt as if it was being turned inside out. During most of it I begged for death, I really did."

Hermione moved from beside him to face him on the chair again so she could grasp one of his hands in both of hers. She asked, "But won't you tell me what happens specifically, please?"

He knew what she wanted him to say, but he didn't think he could say it. He didn't want to tell her the horrors of what the ascension entailed. "Granger," he began, opening his eyes, "we don't even know your ascension will be the same as mine."

"It might be worse," she interrupted.

He acknowledged that with a nod of his head.

"What happens after the ascension?" she forged ahead. "How do you change? How is life different for Veela Draco than it was for non-Veela Draco?" She offered him a little smile.

He smiled in return and brushed the back of his hand down her face. "I've always been Veela, and to how things are different, well, they really aren't." He groaned slightly and moved her entire body so that she was sitting sideways across his lap. "Listen, my little Valkyrie, it's like this. After Veela ascend, it's a right of passage; they become adults in their world, so to speak. They take their mates and they have children, have happy lives. It's no different, yet it is, and I can't explain it to you yet. You'll have to trust me when I say that you'll find out soon enough."

"Finding a mate is important to Veela?" She tucked her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose.

He swallowed hard. "Very important. If Veela find their true mate, they can have a lifetime of happiness and harmony."

"Jon wasn't my mate," she said plainly.

"You hadn't ascended yet, but no, he wasn't." He waited to hear what she would say next.

"How do you know your mate?"

"It's instinctual." He lifted her hand, causing her to lift her gaze to their joined hands. He placed their hands on his chest and said, "Your mate will feel it here, in his heart." He twined their fingers together and moved the same joined hands so that they were on her chest, above her breasts. "And you'll feel it here in your heart."

She pulled her hand from his, touched the side of his head and asked, "What about here? Will you feel it in your head? Your brain?"

He had to smile because only Hermione Granger would want to know that. "Of course, little love. You'll feel it in your brain." His hand went up to her head and combed through her curly, long tresses. He was always enamored with her hair. It intrigued him. It wasn't just ordinary brown. It was brown with gold streaks. He touched a curl and it bounced on her shoulder.

He whispered, "I love your hair. I can't wait to know what it will feel like brushing against my chest, or draping my face when we make love. I long to see it spread out, curls long and silky on the pillowcase, as I gaze down at you, my body pressing in to yours." He didn't know what possessed him to say such things, but she hadn't hexed him so far, so he wasn't inclined to stop.

A shudder racked Hermione's body at Draco's words. He leaned forward and placed his nose in her hair. He said something about her smelling like jasmine and honeysuckle, but she wasn't sure, because the only thing she was sure of at that moment was heaviness in her womb, and emptiness in her heart.

Cupping the back of her head with a large hand, he pulled her closer, and Hermione felt all her defenses melt away. "I want to taste you," he said, placing his lips gently on hers, his mouth merely covering her mouth.

Desire and want ran rampant through her veins with fever and fire. He was cupping her face now, kissing her uncompromisingly, as if he had every right to do so. Her thoughts were whirling in her head even as the taste of his mouth made her hungry for so much more. His hands remained on her face, in her hair, on her neck. She finally placed her hands upon his shoulders.

She was already on his lap… he was already kissing her… so she might was well participate.

It seemed as if the simple action of her placing her hands on his shoulders gave Draco further authorization to take things even further, because he moved one hand from her neck, down to her chest, under her coat, to her breast. Kneading her breast on top of her blouse, she arched up against him, wanted to be closer, wanted to beg him to help her, because she needed him, she needed release, she hurt, it all hurt, it burned.

He seemed to realize everything she needed. "It will be alright, little love," he said into her ear, placing small kisses there, tugging her earlobe in to his mouth. "It's dark, no one will see. My father's men are guarding us. Let me help you. Let me take away the pain."

She wondered if she voiced her needs aloud. She must have, because she wanted him to take the hand that was playing with her breast on top of the blouse, move it under her blouse, when suddenly, he did! He tugged her blouse out of her slacks, snaked his hand up under the hem, moved her bra aside, and placed his hot heavy hand directly on her skin.

His thumb circled her nipple, his mouth took hers again, and a stabbing ray of light burst inside her brain. He held her close as she shuddered and quaked in his lap – and from nothing more than kissing and fondling.

"What did we just do?" she asked breathlessly, appalled at her own behaviour.

"You're so beautiful," he replied, righting her clothes instead of answering her question. She felt his erection on her bottom. She felt more confused, angry, and unhappy than she felt before.

Struggling to get out of his grasp, she begged, "Please, Malfoy, let me get up. Let me, let me go below with Harry."

He let her slip from his lap, but held her arm so she couldn't move farther than the end of the lounge chair. "Granger, don't you dare get all mulish on me."

"Is this what I'm to face?" She placed her head in her hands, hiding her gaze from his. "Am I to embarrass myself in public? Am I to do things with people that I normally wouldn't do?"

"No one saw," he said without the ire that he felt. "I told you that my father's men had already seen that all the crew was away, and it's so dark out here now, that I could barely see you, let alone anyone else seeing you." He still felt terribly hard and unfulfilled, but he wanted to reassure her. "And that's not what you have in store."

When she didn't respond he said, "Fine, Granger. I'll tell you what happened to me. I might as well… my erection's deflated anyway."

She looked up at that and hit him hard on the thigh.

"I usually like that. That might make it come back," he teased.

She cocked her head to the side and sighed.

"Fine, no antics. Come back and sit beside me. I think we'll both fit." He moved over and she sat beside him without argument. "The first thing that happened, a month or so before my birthday, was the same thing that's happening to you. I felt different. I felt like I didn't belong in my own skin. I felt lightheaded, and there was a constant dull thump of a headache in the back of my skull at all times. I ran a fever, and I was certain I had every disease known to wizards and Muggles, alike."

Hermione reached over and took his hand in hers.

He continued. "I had weird dreams. We're talking, very weird. Sometimes, in the dreams, I would even hurt people. Sometimes in the dreams, I was an avenging warrior, and I would save people. It was so odd."

"The day of my ascension, my parents tried to make everything easy for me, but it was still horrific. I had terrible pain. I vomited. I was so hot, and I would sweat so much, that the elves had to change my sheets continually."

"Poor elves," she mumbled.

He gave her a sideways glance, thought she was joking, saw she wasn't, smirked, and asked, "May I continued?"

"Of course, please."

"I had terrible thoughts and hallucinations… I thought that was the worst of it, but of course I was wrong. My father and mother stayed with me during most of it, until the end."

"What happened at the end?" She was looking up at him with big brown eyes, begging him to tell her something nice, a happy-ever-after.

He wanted to do that. But he wouldn't lie to her.

"My father had arranged for a female Veela to be there for me, to attend to my needs." He held her hand tighter, but looked down at his lap.

"Your mate?"

He shook his head no. "It's not quite like that for Veela. When we ascend, we don't have to have our mate present. Sometimes they do, but usually not."

"But you had to have a Veela there for," and she stopped and whispered, "sex?"

He looked over at her, laughed, kissed the top of her hand, and said, "For the last time, it really is, 'VEELA' not 'a VEELA' and you don't have to whisper the word sex. There's no one around. Goodness, Granger, we practically just had sex here, and we didn't whisper it, either."

A ghost of a smile came to her face. "Just tell me the rest."

He dropped her hand, placed his arm around her shoulder, kissed the top of her head. "Yes, we did have sex, but first, I had to stop the awful craving I felt."

Resting her cheek against his chest, she nodded. "I've been having odd cravings. What does that mean? What did you crave?"

Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back and then opened his eyes to look up at the starless sky. He knew there was no easy way to say what he was about to say, and no easy way for her to hear it, so he would make quick work of it, and it would be done. "I craved blood." Immediately, he felt her stiffen beside him. "I needed blood."

She gasped and started to move from beside him, but he brought his other arm around and trapped her in his embrace. She was shaking as she stared in his eyes. "Veela males need a one time blood exchange – only one time – during their ascension, with Veela females. Its necessity or they die. It's the whole point of the ascension."

He felt a tremor go through her body. Was it disgust? Fear?

"Will I crave blood?"

He was waiting for her to ask that question, although there was no point waiting for him to respond, because she answered her own question when she scooted away from him, stood from the chair and said, "I will. I know I will. Damn you to hell, Draco Malfoy. Damn you to hell."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N - I'm going to try to finally post this completed story here. I hope those of you who have nothing good to say will keep it to yourself. The story is completed and posted in its conclusion on 'The Maple Bookshelf', if any of you want to read ahead there. My story, "Rules of Engagement" is also complete now and posted on that site. I have started two other stories, "Pink Roses" and "A Secret Bride" and they will be posted on that site first and then perhaps, in a year or so, I'll post them here. Thank you. Enjoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 – Whispers of Fear<strong>

_Wise thought her the Valkyrie; were welcome never_

_Men to the bright-eyed one, her who the birds' speech well knew,_

_The hymir's-skull-cleaver as on cliff he was perching,_

_"__How is it, ye ravens – whence are ye come now,_

_With beaks all gory, at breaking of morning?_

_Carron-reek ye carry and your claws are bloody,_

_Were ye near, at nighttime, where ye knew of corpses?"_

Shock race through Hermione's entire body, rage at her fingertips, disbelief and fear wrapped together to form a mere precipice from which she now stood. Through the haze of panic and dread, Hermione yelled out to Draco, "Will I crave blood?"

Not waiting for him to respond – for she already knew the answer from the look in his eyes and from her many dreams – she stood from the chair and said, "I will. I know I will. Damn you to hell, Draco Malfoy. Damn you to hell."

Transfixed by the look of sympathy on the face of the man in front of her, she placed her hands in front of her. Shouting with a ferocity that she didn't know she contained, she yelled, "Leave me alone! Everyone leave me alone!"

Draco reached out for her, too suddenly, for the actions startled her. Bringing her right hand out in front of her, she brought it down quickly, almost as if she were holding a sword and was swinging it for protection. The quick reaction shocked them both, especially when Draco looked down at the line of crimson that was forming on the front of his jacket.

"What – what have I done?" she asked with a strangled whisper, a whisper that was nonetheless heard by the crowd that had formed around them, brought there by her shouts.

"What happened?" Harry asked, rushing first to Hermione, then to Draco. "Why are you bleeding?"

Draco shook his head as his answer. He didn't know why he was bleeding. Pulling at his jacket, than at the shirt beneath it, he pulled the front of the shirt apart and noticed a laceration from sternum to navel, one that was not there previously.

Gasping in horror, Hermione backed away from the circle of men, mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I don't even know how it happened. I only imagined that I was holding a sword, I mean, I would never use one on anyone, I would never hurt anyone!" Without further words, she ran away from the men to the other side of the ship, past Harry and the Aurors, past the men who worked for Draco's father, past the crew, and past Devlin.

Everyone gathered close to Draco, asking questions all at once. Harry turned to follow her, even as Devlin turned to Draco. "You see how powerful she is already, Malfoy. Do you truly think you're prepared to handle her? You've messed everything up, didn't you? You should have let me talk to her." Walking toward Harry, the man said, "Let me go to her. Leave her to me."

Before Harry could respond, Draco rushed toward both of the men and turning to Halberdsen, said, "If you go near her, or talk to her at all, you'll find yourself a dead man."

"So it's come to this, has it?" the other man leered.

Harry replied in Draco's stead. "No, it's not come to this. There will be no threats of killing anyone. We're all here to help Hermione, and that's all." Glancing in Draco's direction he said, "Heal yourself and then go to her. She needs you now more than she needs me."

Sitting in a deck chair, all alone, on the other side of the ship, Hermione placed her hands upon her head and closed her eyes. What had she done? What had she done? Her head felt heavy and there was a painful pulse beating behind one eye. She was tired, weary, and dare she think it, afraid.

Yes, more than anything, Hermione felt afraid. She didn't like feeling that way. Fear wasn't an emotion that Hermione Granger gave in to often, but now, it was the only thing she felt. It blinded her, crushed her, and strangled her all at the same time. Many times in her life, she had faced fearful situations, but none quite like this one. This fear was different. It was life altering, yet also, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and she was a mere observer… a humble bystander.

Because usually, Hermione faced all her fears head on, but she couldn't even begin to grasp THIS fear, so there was no way she could overcome it, face it, or even think about defeating it. Perhaps it was because she still didn't fully believe any of this was really happening to her.

Eyes still closed, she heard footsteps approach. Hoping it was Draco (wishing it wasn't), she waited for the person to speak. Sitting up straighter, she pulled her hands away from her face, ready to apologize again, when she saw Devlin standing in front of her.

"Oh, what do you want?" she asked, annoyed.

"I want you to start thinking with your head, Cousin, not your heart," he said vaguely.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she spat, "I'm not your cousin, and I don't want any advice from you. I don't have to do anything… but for the sake of argument, why don't you tell me what you mean by that obtuse statement."

"Fine, I'll tell you," he answered, coming to sit on the other side of her. "Draco Malfoy is muddling your head. He's playing with your emotions, and someone is bound to get hurt."

"Did I hear someone say my name?" Draco asked sarcastically, walking toward them from the shadows to stand in the dim light of the moon. "I believe I did. Moreover, I also believe the only one who got hurt from her last little outburst was I, but I'm all better now. I even changed my shirt." He walked up to the chair where Hermione was sitting and stood behind it. "Still, I'd like to hear more of your reasons why you think I'm muddling her head. Well, go on, don't have all evening. We'll be in Sweden by morning."

Devlin stood, smiled, and walked toward Draco. "You're right, Malfoy. We'll be in Sweden by first light. Once there, I'm sure we'll sort everything out."

"Do you promise?" Draco asked lazily, looking at his fingernails. "I do so hate when things are unsorted."

Devlin laughed – an eerie sound. Turning back to Hermione he said, "I'll finish speaking with you in the morning."

As the other man walked away, Draco waved at him, saying, "Do run along, Halberdsen. Get a good night's sleep."

"You need to leave, too," Hermione said with a pout.

"I have no where else I need to be at the moment, so do you mind?" Without another word, he sat in the chair beside her, the one vacated by Halberdsen. Crossing his legs at the ankles, he folded his arms on his stomach, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep.

When he opened his eyes just a few moments later it was to discover that she had left him alone. How rude. He wanted to talk to her some more. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy hated, it was not getting his own way. Hermione left the deck without even a simple goodnight, leaving him alone in the doom and gloom of a cold September night.

His long-term goal – extracting her from the likes of Halberdsen – wasn't going as well as he had planned. Once they reached the shores of Sweden, and started their trek to Vanaheim, things would only get harder. He'd worry about that later. His short-term goal was a bit trickier, but he would succeed with it. He would go below deck, find her, and force her to tolerate his company.

Walking toward the steps that would lead to the hull, he wondered if he could have handled things better. He tried to tell her about his own ascension, equally, he tried to warn her about her own, but she was afraid, and all he did was cause her more fear.

Reaching the top of the steps, he stopped in his tracks when he saw that she was sitting on the top step. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Waiting for me?"

She shook her head no.

"Waiting to apologize for ruining my favourite shirt?"

Again, a no.

"I could care less about the scar that's bound to be left behind on my abdomen, but that was one of my favourite shirts, and blood is so hard to get out of silk." He sat beside her, a tight fit, and banged his shoulder into hers.

"I don't even know how that happened," she said softly. Turning to look at him, she said, "I promise that I didn't mean to hurt you."

He shrugged. "Uncontrollable magic is a precursor to your ascension. It happens. I accidentally turned my father's hair green two days before I ascended."

Hermione looked at him oddly; saw that he was smiling, so she smiled as well. "Green, huh?"

"He looked like an effing leprechaun." He took her hand in his, turning it over, then placing both their hands in his lap.

"Do leprechauns have green hair?" she wondered.

"Hell if I know," he laughed.

Still smiling, she placed her head on his shoulder. "I'm so tired."

"I know," he responded.

What was he going to do with this woman? He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to tell her that the outcome before her was all roses and brightness, but he wasn't sure that it was, so he could offer her no reassurances.

Deciding he had enough introspective musings, he decided they should both go below deck and get some sleep, for they would need all their strength to get through the next couple of days. Nevertheless, before they went down below, he would help relieve some of her fear.

"We don't know for certain that you'll crave blood, little love. Things might be different for Valkyrie than for Veela. Craving blood doesn't last long, however, so even if you do, we'll cross that path when we get to it, but for the love of all that's evil, we don't know enough about Valkyrie ascensions, except what's written in books."

"I read something about Valkyrie ascensions usually occurring in some cave," she informed him, a spark of hope in her voice.

Picking his words carefully, he said, "True, there's an ancient cave in the city of Vanaheim, said to be enchanted, and that's where you'll have to ascend. Supposedly, on the walls, in runes or glyphs, may be the information we need to know, although I don't know if we'll be able to decipher them. We also hope that journal you have, and the locket, might help us."

"Which all adds up to that fact that no one still knows what might happen to me." She moved away from him and stood on the step below.

He moved to stand beside her.

"I might crave blood. I might not. I might need to mate. I might not. I might die without it, I might not." She turned her back to him and walked down several more steps. "This is just wonderful."

"I want to make it easier," he explained.

She whipped around fast and said, "You should have gone to the blood cave months ago, or taken me there, and we could have had this all figured out by now!"

"I would have, if I could have," he barked back, not liking her tone or accusation. "But no one can enter but a Valkyrie, and supposedly, only within a day of their ascension."

"Well, to hell with that," she sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm smart, but I don't know if I'm that good. I might be able to figure it out, and I might not." With that, she stormed away.

And of course, Draco Malfoy followed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – What is Fear?**

_How awful it is to be without,_

_As blood-red racks races overhead,_

_Is the welkin gory with warrior's blood,_

_As we Valkyries war-song chanted._

Draco found Hermione right as she reached the end of the narrow hallway, leading to one of the only three chambers intended for sleeping. "Where are you going?" he asked impatiently.

Standing passively beside the outer door, she said not a single word. Therefore, he said not another word as he approached. He merely offered his hand to her, in which she looked at with disgust. Shouldering past him, she stormed back down the hallway, back up the steps, and back out of his sight.

What was he going to do with her? He wanted to think that her outlook would be rosy and bright, but he was as unsure of everything as she was, so he could offer her no reassurance. Walking up the narrow, wooden steps, he found her leaning against a railing, her long curly hair blowing out behind her like a brown falcon about to take flight. Walking to her slowly, he stopped when she said, "Now you know my fatal weakness."

Stepping beside her, next to the railing, he leaned his arms on the top rail, but turned his face to hers. "You only have one?"

Giving him an amused look, she said, "Fine, I suppose I have many. But the worst of them all is that I tend to run away when I'm afraid."

Looking at the gentle slope of her jaw and neck, her back bent in defeat, he replied, "I've never know you to run away from anything in your life – until now."

"True," she agreed, angling her body toward his. "Until now. It seems I've never really known a personal fear until now."

Laughing – although he found nothing funny in that statement – he stood upright and closed his eyes. "And fear makes you run away." It was a statement, a fact, a weakness in her eyes.

"Yes." She turned to face the dark waters again, her hands gripping the top railing for support. "I ran below deck and tried to Disapparate away, but found that I couldn't." In desperation, she turned back to him, her eyes blazing like fire. "I wanted to run away from this uncertain future, but I _fear_ that I was unable to do so. I'm so tired, weak, and out of sorts. Even my magic is failing me, just when I need it the most."

Letting his hands rest on the railing beside her, his small finger resting against her index finger, he too stared out at the dark, crippling waters. "Now that's scary." He said it lightly. "Very scary indeed."

Looking up at him, she asked, "Are you making fun of me?"

He turned to her. "Not at all. But shall I tell you the different between fear and being scared?"

"There's a difference?" She cocked her head to side and waited patiently for his explanation.

"I think so." He swallowed, turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. Even in the dark of night, in cold choppy waters, with only a sliver of the moon affording them light, he could tell her eyes were shining brightly at him, emitting a sort of fear and apprehension that he had never seen from her before. It made him feel protective of her. It actually broke his heart.

Rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms, he said, "Being scared is a momentary thing, but it passes. There are usually reasons for being scared, but the reasons aren't so very hard to conquer. Now fear, it's usually unfounded. It's based on the unknown. It leaves a person feeling conquered, and it feels as if you'll never overcome it. But in the end, fear is baseless. It may feel real in the moment. It may take root in your heart, your brain, your soul, but a truly brave person can overcome any fear, at any time, because they know all of this."

She frowned. "What a load of hogwash. Fear and being scared are the same things, Draco Malfoy."

He frowned back at her. "See if I ever try to be profound with you again, Hermione Granger." Squeezing her arms tighter, he added, "With fear, you come to realize that the entire time you're feeling it, you still know you have to face it when it beckons to you. You know that it could consume you, invade your heart. If you let it do that, Granger, you'll be lying to yourself. If you let it think it can overcome you, instead of you overcoming it, then it's already won. You have to face your fears head on, little love, conquer them, and then after they finally leave you, you idly wait for the slight, little feeling of being scared to follow. Once it comes, you'll know what you're up against, you'll know if it's real or make believe, and you'll face it head on."

"Draco," she responded softly, "What if I tell you I'm afraid? Where does that fit in your soliloquy over the debate of being scared over feeling fear? I'm just afraid, Draco. That's all. Aren't I allowed to feel afraid once in my life?"

He wanted to slam his fist through a wall, but there were no walls around them. He wanted to pull her to his chest and hold her, but she was standing so rigid and ramrod straight in his grip that he knew she might run away at any moment. Dark strands of her hair whipped all around her face in the night wind, making her seem somehow more fragile, and yes, afraid. He fought for control of the situation, but he felt a visceral need to bring his mouth down to hers, abandoning all other forms of communication, except for that elusive one between man and woman.

As if she could read his mind, and the battle being raged therein, she reached up with one cold, shaky hand, and placed the palm directly on his cheek. Her fingers drifted softly, slowly, deliberately down to his jaw and then back up again. He reached for her face the next moment, his touch tentative but true. Cradling her face in his palm, he tilted her head back so he could stare in her eyes. She closed them just as he did.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Granger. Tell me what you want me to say. I'm at a loss."

Eyes still closed, she said, "Just answer one question. Tell me that the way I feel for you right now, and the way you seem to feel for me, is real. Relieve this one fear from my mind."

He could tell her a thousand and one things, but none of them would truly answer her question. None of them would remove the fear he saw when she opened up her eyes. None of them would take away the fear that he felt, either.

Instead of talking, he placed an arm around her shoulders and started toward the steps in the darkness. Just as he was about to usher her back down the steps to the cabin assigned to her, he saw Halberdsen leaning against the other side of the boat. Giving the man a speaking glance, he placed a hand on Hermione's lower back as they started down the stairs.

The passageway was narrow and dark. They walked to the cabin at the end. Reaching in front of her, he opened the door and walked her inside, following directly behind her. The cabin was compact, with a single bunk, a desk, and a cupboard. Her suitcase sat on the floor by the bed. Fearing he was making a colossal mistake, or misreading her needs and wants, he felt he had to make his intentions clear, one last time.

And in a way, he would finally be answering her question. Were the feelings they were sharing real? Turning her around to face him he said, "I've never felt this way toward another human being in my life. What I feel is very real. But only you can answer as to your own feelings."

The air around them was fraught with tension. "I'm filled with doubt and fear, as I said, Malfoy. If this is a mistake, I'll answer for it later in so many ways. I'm going into all of this, including whatever this is with you, with blinders on, and I don't like that." She trembled slightly, her voice hitched at the end. "Please, Draco, just help me get through tonight, and we'll worry about the rest of it later."

The anguish in her voice nearly shattered him. His mind began to race. What did she want? What did she expect from him? The rational side of his brain told him that they both already knew the answers to those questions. Reaching out a hand, he combed his fingers through silky, dark curls. Tension flowed between them in the silence that followed. He knew if he gave in to her tonight, it could only help dispatch her fears as to what was about to happen in two days time.

It would also help relay his fears.

But mostly it would mean there was no turning back for either of them. With that one fact glaring brightly in his brain, he knew, deep in his soul, he knew, that was the answer to her question. That was an answer to her fear. If they faced the night together… truly together, there was no possible way either could go back to how things were before.

Taking her hand in his, he edged her over to the small bunk, not much wider than a single bed, and he helped her to sit. Kneeling before her on the floor, he looked closely at her, intently, waiting for a final sign.

Gradually, cautiously, like a small bird approaching a predator, she reached out her hand, touched his hair as he had touched hers minutes ago, closed her eyes, and leaned closer. Touching her forehead to his, she turned her head to the side and kissed him.

It was so utterly sweet, honest, and daring. He rather felt like shouting for joy. Her hand moved from his hair to his face as she leaned away from him.

So far, his hands had been resting by her hips on the bed, but the look on her face after she kissed him gave him encouragement. Moving closer, his knees touching the bottom of the bunk, he reached for her hand on his face, cupped it in his hand, and turned it palm side up. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed her wrist first, a gentle slide of lips on skin, then he glanced back into her eyes. Seeking unmistakable permission in their depths, he brought her hand back to his mouth, kissing the middle of her palm.

The pulse under his thumb was beating wildly. He smoothed his finger back and forth over the soft skin covering the thin, blue veins there. Keeping her hand in his, he dropped their hands on her lap, then moved to sit beside her on the small bed.

She leaned over and placed her head against his shoulder in an act of resolution. He ached to touch her more… kiss her more… show her love in some capacity. Tonight was for comfort. Nothing more. "What do you want me to do?" he asked a final time.

She replied softly, "I don't know."

Neither moved for the longest time, although desire was thick between them. He finally dropped her hand, to move his arm around her shoulders. She turned to look at him and she smiled.

He decided right then he was going to kiss that smiling mouth. Moving closer, he did.

She moved her head to the left as his lips touched hers. He sought her mouth with urgency, moving it in a smooth, prolonged kiss. He reached out for her tongue, touching his to hers, and he moaned. Her hands went back to his scalp, pulling at his hair, so he bent his head and kissed his way down her neck, tenderly, reverently, and with every intention of coming back up to her sweet mouth at the end. He stopped to take a final look at her face, wondering if she was smiling again.

She wasn't.

He stopped completely when he saw there were tears in her eyes. Tears covering dilated pupils, full of desire, want and damn it all to bloody hell, fear. The air around them grew cold and stale, as all the blood rushed to his ears. He couldn't even speak. He dare not move.

He wanted to shake her. Exhaling a ragged breath with a curse, he said, "Just rest, Granger. Morning will come soon enough. I'll just stay here and hold you until we reach the shores of Sweden. Will that be alright?"

She nodded. Maneuvering them both, he stretched across the top of the bunk, pulling her close to his side. Kissing her temple, he said, "Rest, little love. There's nothing to fear right now. We'll handle the next two days together."

He would simply hold her, even though it would test all his resolve. For once, he had to show courage in the face of fear – something he wasn't accustomed to doing. He had to be strong for her, so even though merely holding her all night was almost more than he could bear, he would do it. For her.

With her head resting on the top of his chest, her hand tucked under her cheek, she said, "Thank you, Draco. I think this is just what I needed."

He mumbled, "Yeah, I'm damn saint. Go to sleep. I'll be here." He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon, but she needed to, because there were going to be more dangers and FEARS facing them when they finally reached Vanaheim.

Feeling exhausted and depleted, Hermione finally dropped off to sleep, when a loud sound, perhaps a clap of thunder, ripped through the night, causing her to sit upright on the bed, moving from the safe harbor of Draco's arms.

He sat up a second after her. The roaring sound become louder, more pronounced. Hermione stood from the bed and glanced around the nearly dark cabin. She was about to ask Draco what was happening, when she felt the floor under her feet shaking. Hearing men scream, she spun around to face the door, and at that moment she was knocked off her feet by a tremendous force of water.

Darkness and despair filled the small cabin. She reached out blindly for Draco, but was soon tossed under water again, where she was blinded by darkness.

Her head floated back up above the water, but she couldn't tell if she was still in the cabin, or if the boat was upside down, and she didn't know where Draco was. Feeling desperate, she gulped for air, her lungs expanding with the force, just as a flailing hand reached out for her in the darkness.

She held onto the person for dear life, floating back down, bobbing back up, smothering and gasping. Coughing and spluttering, she felt her head hit a beam, and without another conscious thought she felt herself slip from her savior's grasp, and sink deep into water.

The next time she became conscious of anything, she was aware of water lapping at her clothes, heavy and cold. Pieces of debris… wood, deck chairs, a broken desk, floated past her. Her mind felt blank from the shock of it all, her chest burning as sweet air replaced the water. She struggled, but the water continued to push at her.

Then, another loud roar, louder than the first sound, surrounded her, just as a large wave of black water rolled toward her. She realized she screamed, and as she did, she gasped as water filled her mouth and lungs again.

This was fear. Cold. Dread. Fear. As she struggled to push her way back up to the air, someone reached for her waist. A hard form pulled her to him, as another wave broke over them.

She knew in that instant she was going to die. That was her last, conscious thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 -**

_Hákon said: "Why didst Geirskogul grudge us victory?_

_Though worthy we were for the gods to grant it?"_

_Skogul said: "Tis owing to us that the issue was won_

_And your foemen fled."_

Cold water. Hermione's first thought when she came to the second time was that she was floating around in extremely cold water. Yes. She was very, very cold. The second thing to give her pause was the fact that everything was so quiet and dark. Reaching out with one hand, she felt a solid wall of wood to her side. Moving along, with the wall giving her purchase, she shivered as the cold water lapped around her frozen, banged-up body. Teeth chattering, she tried to call out for help, but only a small squeak came out, so she closed her mouth and continued to move along the wooden wall toward a small sliver of light.

She knew instantly that she was trapped inside the boat, and the boat was underwater. Something told her it was probably upside down – turned upside down just as her life had been turned upside down. Continuing toward the small sliver of light, she stopped when the debris and wood hampered her movements. Trying to lever herself higher, out of the water, which was to her chin, pain suddenly lacerated through her chest and right arm. Her head ached something fierce, too. Again, she decided to call out, only to have her voice falter once more.

The only thing she heard above the gentle sound of water lapping against her body and the wall beside her was the ragged intake of her own breathing. Where was everyone else? Were they dead? Was she?

Sporadic thoughts floated around in her brain even as she floated back and forth against the solid wall. Flashing pictures of her life became solid, then hazy again… pictures of her past, her present and obscured pictures of a future uncertain. Gritting her teeth in determination, she pushed the mental pictures from her mind, just as surely as she used her left hand to push away a large piece of floating debris. She swam closer still to the small piece of light filtering through two boards. That small shaft of light was her salvation. It was her beacon. It helped her to realize that she wasn't going to die – at least not here and not now – and not tonight, like this. She would not die. She refused to do it.

Even though movement caused her chest to ache beyond bearing, she continued to move to the opening. Finally, she floated in front of the space, looked out it, but she saw only more darkness… what happened to the light?

Something brushed against her leg. A body. Heaven help her, there was a body floating below her. She was coherent enough to be afraid at that point. She wanted to cry, but tears would only waste her time and energy. She needed a plan. She needed to survive; therefore, she would keep her wits about her. She had survived worst things than this in her life, therefore it stood to reason that she would survive this, too.

Finally, the little ray of light, of which she thought of as a ray of hope, shined through the two pieces of wood stronger than before. She started to claw at the wood, trying to part it so she could see beyond her watery grave. That was when she saw the point of a wand sticking through her makeshift hole, then she felt someone reach in their hands, grab her, and with determination pull her through to the other side.

Someone had her. She wasn't safe yet, for whoever it was who pulled her through the hole was also floating along in chin high water, but someone had found her. She was no longer alone. Afraid to look, but unable to turn away, she moved with the body, with a heavy purpose, through the murky water. When they reached a large opening, they both stopped, and only then did she reach up with her good hand to touch the face of the person beside her.

Everything was pitch black and cold. Draco was colder and wetter than he'd ever been in his life. He could barely move. He could barely breathe. After the first wave, the boat all but turned over. After the second, it turned upside down completely and began to break apart. He became separated from Granger after the second explosion. Disoriented, he realized that although he hurt all over, he was alive. So was she… so was Granger.

He called out for her, and there was no answer. Still, some deep feeling inside told him that she was alive. Finding a wand floating by, as if sent from a water nymph to help him in his quest, he lit the end and began to search through the rubble for her.

Finally, he saw her through a hole in two boards. Pulling and clawing at the wood with fingers that barely moved due to the cold, he decided the hole was big enough and he reached for her, thus pulling her to the other side.

She reached up and touched his face. Overwhelmed that she was alive and breathing, his heart began to beat out of sync, even as he grabbed her to him, placing kisses on her hair and face. He breathed in a long scent of her, along with a long breath to sustain them both, then without a word he pulled her under water, and out through a doorway, leading them both to a larger room within the belly of the boat.

He cautiously moved his hands from her arms to her shoulders and she winced in pain. Settling her against his chest, he signed, even as her head came to rest on his shoulder. She tried to get even closer, seeking warmth and something else.

His head hurt, and he knew that blood was pouring from a wound over his right eyebrow, but he didn't care. They were safe. They were together. He tightened his arms around her, drew her closer, kicked off from the wall, and made toward an opening above them.

That was when he knew he was in trouble. The pain in his left leg, from merely trying to kick upwards in the water, made him grit his teeth and curse under his breath. He even accidentally released his hold on her, groaning in pain.

She moved around to face him. "Draco, is there anyone else here?"

"No one here but us mermaids," he said sardonically. They were trapped alone in darkness with nothing but cold water and rubble floating around them. Yes. They were alone.

He felt her hand sweep along his brow, and he closed one eye, the pain vicious and intense as she brushed back his wet hair. Bringing her hand to her face, she stated, "There's blood on my hand." He must have gasped, for she inquired, "Are you hurt?"

Through shivers, he murmured, "Not at all. I'm just fine. Peachy, in fact. I survived a shipwreck. I'm stuck underneath the hull of a ship in the upside underbelly. I apparently have a large gash over my eye, which is bleeding copious amounts of blood as we speak, and oh yes, I just realized that my leg is dangling at a most unnatural angle due to the fact that it was stuck between two rather large objects after the first wave hit."

"Oh, is that all," she replied, seriously. "How did you get your leg out from between the two large objects?" She swam around him and reached down to his leg with her good arm.

"I didn't." He reached for her hand and brought it back above water. "The second explosion, or wave, or whatever the hell that was, hit and it knocked me free, but it also knocked you unconscious. We became separated. That's when I decided I had to come find you. Are you certain you're well?"

She asked, "Were you worried about me?" Her voice sound odd, unattached.

He answered, "Not at all. You were my ride, and I wanted to be certain you didn't go to Sweden without me, that's all." Saying those words allowed him to mask his true feelings of fury and rage. Someone tried to kill her. They would dearly pay. Clenching his fists, he suspected that she had already come to the same conclusion as him. "Were you worried for me?" he decided to ask.

"I lost my wand," she sighed, grabbing onto his shoulder with her hand. He noticed that she didn't answer his query.

"I fail to see how that answers my question, but if that's the case, you're having a worst time of it than me, it would seem," he said with sarcasm, "but at least I found your wand. Hell if I know the whereabouts of mine." He slipped her wand into her right hand, causing her to wince. "What is it?"

"My shoulder may be dislocated, that's all," she said, suddenly smiling through chattering teeth.

He barked out a laugh. "Aren't we a pair. My leg's no good, your arm is a mess, you hit your head – the hardest part of you to be sure – and I marred my handsome face with this damn cut above my eye. What else could happen?"

"We could drown," she answered honestly. At her stark honesty, Draco wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hug her to him and never let her go.

"Or we could just freeze to death," he added, wanting to keep things light, before they got as heavy and dark as the black water all around them.

She shook her head in agreement. "Perhaps we'll freeze to death before we drown. Or we could freeze to the brink of death, and then drown."

He frowned. "Remind me not to let you plan the itinerary for our next adventure."

Swimming away from him, she said, "I need to go get us help."

"Come back here," he barked out, reaching for her. "Stay here. Someone will find us, I'm sure." It dawned on Draco that most women would be in tears by now, but she was staying calm, keeping him calm, and because of that, another rush of emotions passed through him, deep and visceral. Be it admiration or what, he didn't know or care. He didn't have the fortitude to example his feelings while drowning in freezing water… or freezing to death while drowning, as the case may be.

He wanted to touch her. To reassure her. He could hear little pants of air escaping her mouth as she faced him again. Reaching up with a hand, he touched her cheek, then pulled away, because the intimacy of being alone with her, in the dark, in danger, stripped away the last tenuous remnants of calm he was fabricating for her benefit. He was afraid… for her and for himself. They had to get out of here. "Granger, we have to try to find help."

Still shaking, from cold and dread, he heard a quiver in her voice as she said gravely, "What if they're all dead?" At that question, he pulled her body back against his. Bobbing up and down in the cold, frigid North Sea, she reached her left arm around his shoulders. "What if Harry died?"

"Then we would at least have one happy thing that occurred from this tragedy," he said lightly. He skimmed his hand over her cheek, down her neck. "Are you truly alright, little love?"

"That's an awful thing to say," she scolded, pushing away from the circle of his embrace.

"What? Little love?" he asked.

"NO!" she screeched. "That you'd be happy if Harry died!"

He reached out for her once more, grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and pulled her to him. "Listen, I'm cold and possibly drowning here. Give a man a last dying wish, won't you?"

"Your last dying wish would be for MY best friend to die? Couldn't you wish for something constructive, like someone saving us or something? Besides, you aren't drowning," she replied, her hands skimming his chest. "You're be fine. I'll be fine. However, I wonder how much air we have left in here. I'm having trouble breathing. Are you having trouble breathing?"

Draco knew they weren't completely sealed off from the outside, and that there was plenty of air, but it did seem as though the darkness surrounding them was also suffocating them. "Perhaps we should try to escape on our own, instead of waiting to be rescued," he finally suggested.

She said, "Don't worry. I'll get us out of here."

He heard a slight hitch in her bravado and marveled, "Usually I'm the one that's given to feats of lies and deceit. You telling me everything's fine and not to worry are ridiculous to the extreme, Granger." He pulled her as close to him as he could, his hand wrapping around her wrist, anchoring her to him. "But, I think you're right. You need to get us help. I really think you might have to see if you can get out of here without me. I'm a bit… well… hurt."

After a moment's silence between the pair, Hermione asked, "What do you think happened? The sea was quiet. There weren't any storms. And last time I looked, the North Sea wasn't prone to tsunamis."

Pushing back her hair again, he said, "Keen observation, Granger, which stands to reason that this wasn't a natural occurring phenomenon."

She placed her head on his shoulder. "Someone wants to stop me from going to Sweden it would appear." With that said, she pushed out of his reach, slid under water, and out of his sight.

"Granger?" he asked, hoarsely, reaching around the in the cold water for her. "GRANGER?"

She popped her head back up a few meters away from him. "What did you want?"

"What are you doing?" he asked instead of answering her question.

She swam back toward him, her wand lit and dangling from her left hand. "I need to have a look at your leg. If you're not permanently injured, then I think I have to try to drag you out of here. We're sitting ducks here, no pun intended, and if whoever did this survived, they'll try again. I, for one, don't wish for that to happen." And without another word of explanation, she dove back under water.

Draco growled low in his throat, splashed his hands around in the water, and called out for her one last time. "GRANGER?" At that precise moment, he felt a tug on his leg, and then pain, intolerable and intractable pain, followed. Then just as she had done before, he slipped from one awareness to another, with his last thought being that she had a hell of a way of saving him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – A Hand to Hold**

_What kind of dream is it, said Odin,_

_In which just before daybreak,_

_I thought I cleared ValhQll,_

_For coming of slain men?_

_I walked the Einherjar,_

_Bade Valkyries rise up,_

_To strew the bench,_

_And scour the beakers,_

_Wine to carry,_

_As for a king's coming,_

_Here to me I expect,_

_Heroes coming from the world,_

_Certain great ones,_

_So glad is my heart._

The pounding in Draco's head wouldn't stop. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt as if they were full of sawdust. Opening his mouth to speak, he quickly closed it again when a wave of nausea hit him.

He felt a hand on his forehead. "Don't open your eyes yet. Rest. You're safe now." The words were accompanied by a gentle stroke against his forehead. He reached up for the hand, grabbed it, and pulled it to his chest.

"Granger?" His voice sounded distant even to him.

"It's alright, Draco. We're safe," she repeated.

"Did someone save us?" he asked, ignoring her request and opening his eyes. The light was bright and disturbing. He quickly closed them again.

"I saved us," she said softly, not boastfully, but as a matter of fact.

Then he remembered…

_Hermione disappeared from their watery grave. He didn't know where she was; only that she was there one minute and the next minute she was gone. He felt his mind wandering, the pain in his head and leg growing in intensity. He was about to give into the weariness, let his eyes close, when he felt someone take his hand._

_Her hand was soft against his rough one. He felt cuts and abrasions to her skin and that thought made him sad. She took a moment to caress his head, and then she took his hand in hers again and began to pull him with her. She pulled him through debris and rubble, under water, over water, through doorways and passageways. _

_Her hand remained tightly wrapped in his. The gloom and darkness was disorienting, and several times Draco found that he lost focus, forgot where he was, even stopped moving. If it wasn't for her dragging him along, pulling him, he might have died in the belly of the boat._

_They were in a small passageway, with very little air, when she said, "This is the only way out. I've already made it once, so I know we can do it together. Harry's just on the other side. I need you to hold your breath, as long as you can, and follow me. Are you ready, Draco?"_

_He didn't recall what he said in reply, but he took a deep breath, right before he felt them go through the small passageway. They scraped against metal and wood, trudged through black, murky water, and even as his muscles screamed in protest, he used all his strength to push his way through the last small barrier toward freedom._

_When they emerged from the water, he blinked his eyes several times and coughed fiercely. He looked around, even though blood was falling from his forehead into his eyes, he could see they were free from the watery grave below them. He shuddered and reached for her, unaware that she still had his hand._

Recalling it all so clearly now, he said, "You saved my life. Sort of like in your dreams, right? Warrior princess saving the fair prince?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose so." She gave his hand another squeeze.

He turned toward her voice, opened his eyes again. "Is Potter at least dead?"

"NO!" she snapped.

He growled. "At least make me happy and tell me Halberdsen is dead."

She leaned over where he lay, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "We don't know where he is. But we're in Vanaheim now. We're just outside the city. Harry contacted the Swedish Ministry and they're set to help us in any way they can."

"What day is it?" he asked, trying to sit up. "Is it your birthday yet?"

"It's only been a few hours since the boat capsized. It's morning… the morning after, if you may." She exhaled a long breath and stood. Walking over to a small window, she placed her hand flat against the windowpane and said, "Harry told me what happened when the boat broke apart. He was above board when it happened."

"Was it a curse?" Draco sat up, head still pounding, and moved so his feet were touching the floor.

She nodded. "Yes. Harry said that out of nowhere a giant black cloud came out of the west, but it wasn't a storm cloud. He said he knew instantly it was some sort of dark magic. Then, a wave came upon the boat, rocking it back and forth, causing water to flood the deck. Without warning, the boat began to break apart." Hermione moved from the window and went to grasp Draco's hand. Sitting beside him, she continued, "Harry said the ship was turned upright, and then it broke apart when a second wave hit it. Many of the crew, some of your father's men, and two Aurors are dead."

"How did we escape? The last thing I knew, you left me." He sounded like a petulant child, but that was how he felt. "You shouldn't have left me."

"If I hadn't, you would still be under water," she quipped. "I swam above, saw Harry and some of the others hanging onto some of the floating debris, and after they signaled for help, I went back under and rescued you."

He frowned. "Now wait one minute," he began, trying to stand. His leg still hurt, so he sat back down. "You're sure that YOU rescued me, not Harry Potter, right?"

She smiled at him. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," he complained. "I'm supposed to be here to help you. I should have rescued you. You might have died." He didn't like remembering that, but it was true. "Someone tried to kill you. Someone doesn't want you here. They don't want you to ascend."

She nodded slightly. "That's what we figure as well." She started walking by him, but he reached out and grabbed her hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact.

He said, "Thank you, little love. Seriously. Thank you."

The feel of his hand in hers made her feel warm and happy. It gave her strength. She felt better just having him near. "What do we do now?" she asked. "I mean, as much as I disliked Devlin, at least he knew where we were going and what we had to do. I feel a bit lost now."

"My father's already contacted our family here. I'm sure they've already heard about the ship sinking. They're bound to find us. They'll tell us what to do, where to go. Don't worry. Likewise, if Potter's contacted the Swedish Ministry, they'll help as well. They have a vested interest in all of this, I'm sure." They didn't need Devlin Halberdsen, especially as Draco was certain that HE was the reason they almost died.

With her hand still in his, he brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss in the middle of her palm. Then he folded her hand in his, trapping his kiss within, and pulled on her arm until she was sitting beside him on the bed. Then he pulled her down beside him, even as he fell over on his back. "Let's get a few more hours of sleep, since it's early. I think we'll need it," he encouraged.

She could only nod, even as she pressed her face to his chest and closed her eyes, falling fast asleep.

Hermione woke up a while later feeling cold, and with pain all over her body. Even though a healer had given her a potion for pain, and had fixed her dislocated shoulder, she still hurt all over. When she first opened her eyes, she felt afraid. Now she knew Draco was beside her, and fear was replaced with something else entirely.

His hand was moving around her face… a single fingertip tracing lines across her cheek, nose, and chin. "Are you alright? Are you in pain?" he asked.

She wanted to tell him that she was afraid again, but that would sound redundant. And she was in pain… and a bit lonely as well. She nodded as an answer, burying her nose deeper in his chest. She loved the way he smelled. Never one to analyze things like 'smells' and 'emotions', she only knew that his distinct smell made her feel safe and happy. It soothed her raw nerves. It was reassuring. She felt so distant, both physically and mentally, so she didn't want to over think anything. She just wanted to feel.

With his breath in her hair, she let herself relax more deeply within his arms. Even though her heart was racing, her pulse ticking away, she felt relaxed. Her brain felt foggy and dull. She didn't want to think anymore. Therefore, she continued to cling to him, hold him, pulling him even closer, as she moved to her back.

He loomed over her now, looking down into her eyes with a bright intensity. Cupping his cheek with one hand, she moved her fingers over his hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body warming her own. She was holding him so tightly that her hands were beginning to feel numb. His arms came around her like bands of steel, holding her, embracing her. He rolled them again so he was on his back, she was on his chest, and he whispered in her ear, "I want you so much."

She burrowed closer to his chest. Her heart was beating as fast as the wings of a bird trapped by a cat. He moved his head to kiss her cheek, and then moved his mouth to place a fierce kiss upon her lips.

He pressed his lips upon her cheeks and tasted tears there. Hermione wondered if he would question why she was crying. She wasn't sure it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that they were together, they were alive, and that they would survive this. They had to survive it.

"Draco," she said, desperately. "I feel as if you're saving my life, just as surely as I saved yours. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. You saved mine, so it's only fair that I save yours," he said in return, moving them again so that he was looming over her.

She couldn't remove her gaze from his. He continued to stroke her hair and face, and she closed her eyes and made a sound deep in the back of her throat. Cradling her cheek with one hand, he bent his head to kiss her again. This kiss was a possession. A need. An explanation of sorts.

This kiss gave her a renewed feeling of hope. Sliding her hands over the muscles of his back and chest, she felt him start to pull away. "Wait, Granger, wait. We can't… not yet, not right now."

"But I need you now," she protested. Then she cut off his ramblings with another deep kiss. She didn't care what he said. She didn't want to hear his protests. She only wanted to drink from the deep well of his mouth, feel the renewal of his touch, and put out the fire in her soul. Her heart was beating so fast she felt breathless, and her skin burned and tingled with a hypersensitivity that was close to unbearable.

She felt tension leave him as he settled his heavy body upon hers. Soon, his mouth was moving against her neck, her throat, his hands in her hair, on her skin. She squirmed and moved restlessly underneath him. She needed him more than she needed air. As his lips moved from her collarbone to her breast, she cried out.

They stripped out of their clothing, moving rapidly, haphazardly. She felt like some exotic creature… strange, full of foreign sensations, voluptuous and desirable. Her hunger for him was insatiable, and she arched at his touch, his caress, his warmth.

She pulled his hips into the cradle of her thighs and felt the glide of his skin over hers, and some tide broke within her as he entered her, thrusting hard, but not hard enough. Something wild and wanting exulted from their joining, and the want of it consumed her with fierce longing. She wanted to yield to it, but she wanted to overpower the feeling even more.

Something uncontrollable broke loose, as he drove into her again and again, his mouth on hers, her hands pulling on his back, his hair.

Then everything around them shattered into a million bright follicles of light. Pure, bright joy entered every cell of her being. She felt replenished and full, happy and sated. She opened her eyes to a bright glow. The entire room around them was washed with the brightest, white light imaginable.

Barely able to speak, completely unable to move, she reached up for him, and felt him lean over her, as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then his mouth moved to hers, kissing her slowly... a mere echo of the desire they felt earlier.

He moved to his side, pulled her against him and said, "This is just the beginning, little love. Just the beginning."

A wave of awareness went through her at his words. This WAS the beginning of something, but she didn't know what. She only knew that if it had begun, then there was no way to stop it, and that thought scared her more than she cared to admit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – A Celebration of Sorts**

_I send out from me the spirit of the Valkyrie Gondul,_

_May the first bite you in the back,_

_May the second bite you in the breast,_

_May the third turn hate and envy upon you._

Hermione looked out the bedroom window of the little inn where they were staying. She watched Harry and Draco as they stood talking to two men she didn't know. What were they doing? What plans were being made for her behalf? Draco and Harry left the Inn right after breakfast this morning without telling Hermione where they were going. She didn't care too much, as she once again felt lightheaded and ill. Certain her feelings were due to her ascension, she decided it was best if she stayed at the Inn.

Not only did she have a headache, but she got very little sleep after they arrived in the early hours of the morning. When she had finally fallen asleep – in Draco's embrace – after having made love – she dreamt of shipwrecks, warrior princesses, and blood. Considering everything that had happened over the last twelve hours… surviving a shipwreck, arriving in a foreign land, and having sex with Draco Malfoy, she didn't know how she had even managed to keep her calm façade this morning while eating breakfast in the small inn's dining room.

Inside, she was a bundle of raw nerves with the thought of what was about to occur the day after tomorrow. She still didn't know what to expect, where she was to go, what she was to do. Hermione never liked going into anything unprepared, therefore, she was a bit terrified. Being frightened was another thing she hated. Then there was what happened with Draco early this morning here in this very inn. She had abandoned all rational thought, decorum, and intelligence, and had slept with him.

The entire experience unnerved her.

Outside her window, something else was unsettling to her. A celebration was beginning in the village square down below – a celebration for her. She shook her head in disgust and turned away from the window, walked over to the bed, and picked up the old black, bound book on Nordic folklore she had brought with her from her parents' attic.

Leaving the old yellowed journals on the desk, and she sat down on the bed to read.

It almost read like a piece of fiction, more than anything. The old tattered book told of nine princesses who were sent to earth by the god Odin. Written in the form of a poem, Hermione surmised that it was their job to protect over the warriors and princes during battle. By pointing their long, white swords at each man as they lay dying, the princesses (or Valkyrie) would determine who would live and who would die, and who would end up victorious in battle.

Daunting thought, that. Supposedly the last known Valkyrie ascension was over two hundred years ago. She remembered her grandmother telling her, when she was little, that she was a true fairy princess. In fact, she told her she was the LAST known fairy princess. At the time, Hermione thought her grandmother's stories, handed down from the woman's own grandmother, were fable. Now she wondered if they were something else entirely.

The description of the women in the poem closely resembled the warrior princess from Hermione's dream… long, flowing white gown, breast plated-armor glowing white, a white horse, long white sword made of something stronger than metal. She never once, when she was young, thought that these stories might be real.

She also never once knew the real reason Jonathon married her. Never, in a million years, would she imagine that he only married her to further his standing in his family and community. Thinking of it now made her angry and confused. The thought that he only married her because she might be the last of a mystical (perhaps mythical) creature made her almost glad the man was no longer around, for if he were, she would surely show him how angry she could become.

Clutching the book in one hand, her other hand went to the pocket of her sweater, where she had placed the round, golden etched medallion from her grandmother's trunk. She wanted to know what the emblem on the necklace meant, but she didn't know whom she should ask. She also wanted to find the caves with the stone etched runes where she would make her ascension. But mostly, she wanted the dull ache in her brain to cease.

Her headache started this morning when the mayor of Vanaheim joined Harry, Draco and Hermione for breakfast. He explained that the witches and wizards of Veela descent – which most of the residence of this primordial city were – had been waiting for the last Valkyrie to appear for over two hundred years. They were notified that Hermione Granger was possibly that person by none other than Devlin Halberdsen, who not only survived the shipwreck, but appeared two hours earlier than their arrival to the ancient, magical city. He had already met with the leaders of each Veela family, as well as the city elders and rulers, long before Hermione and Draco had even woken up this morning. He made a claim to the representatives of Sweden's Ministry of Magic to be named 'ghuardian' of Hermione as head of her 'family'.

Unknown to the stupid man, Draco's father had already petitioned for the very same thing before they even arrived. 'Ghuardianship' had already been given to Draco, much to Hermione's chagrin, and Halberdsen's outrage. Draco tried to assure her at breakfast that it was a measly formality. She informed him that she didn't need anyone to act as her guardian, as Harry attested when he arrived to the dining room to join them.

Harry was late to breakfast because he had made an appearance before Sweden's Ministry of Magic and with their help he questioned Halberdsen on his possible collusion regarding the shipwreck. The man feigned innocence, claiming that he too was thrown overboard, and barely escaped the wreckage with his life. Although Harry and the other British Aurors didn't believe the man, apparently his word was good as gold to the good people of Sweden. Still, Harry and the other Aurors were having the debris from the ship brought ashore so they could examine it for traces of dark magic.

It would be hard to prove that Halberdsen had anything to do with the wreckage, especially here in Vanaheim, where he was almost regarded as a godlike figure… leader of the Veela community, rich and successful. Not only that, but apparently his word was taken almost as law in this ancient city. If he said he had nothing to do with the shipwreck, she was certain everyone would believe him. Moreover, if he said that Hermione Granger was the last known Valkyrie, than to all of the people here, it was the truth, thus the celebration that was to begin at two o'clock this afternoon.

It was almost eleven now. Ignoring the ache in her head, she opened up the book and continued to read.

After reading for at least another hour, she finally placed the book in the top dresser drawer, positioned the medallion with the fine gold chain around her neck, underneath her sweater, and then she went outside. Immediately, she saw Draco standing with a group of men. He turned suddenly, as if he could feel her looking at him. Giving her a speaking glance, he turned back toward the other men. She turned her attention to the men and women setting up tents and chairs and tables in the village square.

Feeling the hair on the nape of her neck standing at attention, she turned and spied Devlin walking toward her.

"I hope you got a bit of rest this morning, cousin dear," he said with a plastic smile.

She rubbed her hand over her right eyebrow and forced herself to remain civil. "I did."

"Are you prepared for the feast today? It is in your honour, after all," he said, sweeping his hand in an arc toward the tables and chairs.

"I would prefer to spend the day in the cave where I'll make my ascension the day after next," she said, sincerely. "Then I would like to finish reading the book I brought with me."

He studied her with a guarded glance. "My dear, you've no reason to fear or worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

She took a deep breath through her nose before she replied. "I'm not sure that's your concern, Devlin." She turned to where she'd last spied Draco. He was gone. Turning back toward the other man, she said, "Good day, Devlin."

"Where are you going?" he asked as she started walking away. She didn't answer. Smiling, though he couldn't see her, she continued walking away from the man, never answering his question. Leaving behind the hubbub of the village square, she saw Draco walking toward her at last. He had a smile on his face. Conscious of staring back at him, she felt annoyed when he smiled at her. She felt even more petulant when he offered her his arm without a word.

She accepted it, and felt him lead her away from everyone else, toward the woods beyond the square. "I thought I wouldn't see you for a while," she said, to have something to say.

"Why would you think that?" he asked.

Shrugging, she had no answer.

"I saw you talking to Halberdsen," he mentioned, pulling her closer to him.

"He's being as odious as usual," she replied, stopping by a grove of elm trees. "I have a headache. May we stop walking, please?"

He reached toward her face, cupped his hand on her cheek, but before he could say the words that were on the tip of his tongue, she pulled away. "Stop that," she demanded.

Scowling, he asked, "Stop what?"

"Touching me," she replied peevishly.

Scratching his jaw, he placed both his hands behind him. "Why should I?"

"I don't want anyone to see," she answered.

"Why?" he asked, once again offering his arm to her.

She ignored his gracious offer and started walking. "I don't want anyone to think anything about us." She sensed that he wasn't following her, so she stopped walking and turned to face him. He seemed to be watching her with a gaze that was so magnetic, that she was almost drawn to him, physically. Turning on her heel (less she throws herself at him) she headed toward the small port, where their boat, "My Heart's Desire" was being unloading from a barge, piece by piece.

Sighing, she said, "There's nothing left is there? I have no clothing. If Harry hadn't run to my cabin to look for me after the first wave hit the ship, then the books and journals wouldn't have been saved, either. Good thing he snatched up my satchel at the last moment." Looking down at the clothes she had been forced to borrow from another guest at the inn, she added, "I just thought of that."

"No worries." He came to stand beside her. The heat from his body radiated to hers. "Potter already sent for more things for all of us. If he hadn't, I would have."

"Why didn't I just think of that?" Her brows drew together as she asked that question.

Draco didn't know why they were talking of clothing and things, but he didn't care, either. All he wanted to do was to distract her long enough so he could tell her what to expect at the feast tonight. He knew she didn't understand Veela customs or history. She didn't know this was a mating ceremony. He didn't know how to tell her, either. Knowing Hermione Granger, as he did, she would probably throw a tantrum, storm off somewhere, and then they would be in a fine pickle. He had to handle everything from this point on with the greatest care and ease.

Therefore, he didn't reply to her question or rambling thoughts about clothing and books and such. Instead, he reached out for her while his mind wandered to her long legs, flat stomach, and beautiful breasts. The thought of what they had shared this morning made his heart thrum out of beat in his chest. The thought of what they would share tonight, after the ceremony, as well as what they would share in the cave during her ascension, made him shiver with anticipation.

And then, there was her touch. It was electrifying. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. He found it difficult to think of anything else besides the intimacy that they had shared only a few short hours before, and the intimacies that were to come.

Forcing her away from the wreckage, he wanted to get her alone to tell her what to expect later, when he found that she was leading them back toward the village green. Resigned for the moment, he once again placed her arm through his. "If we're heading back already, then I think we should go back to the Inn and get ready for the little ceremony thing they have planned in your honor. It starts at two. That only gives us an hour to get ready."

Peering at the crowd as they ventured forth, she tucked a wisp of stray hair behind her ear and let out a loud, embellished sigh as he walked them toward the inn. Weaving through a throng of people, all staring at her, made her feel even more angry and irritable than she felt earlier. "I don't want to go to a stupid party, but if I must go, I'll attend as I am, thank you."

She started toward a table and began to sit down. Leaning toward her, he reached out to pull out her chair before she could pull it out for herself. "Fine. I don't care what you wear or how you look for these people." Even though he did. He sat down beside her. "I don't want to be here, either, but the head of our Veela clan here seems to think we should play along with Halberdsen and the rest of them, at least for now. I'm inclined to agree."

"Even if I don't want to waste my time here?" she leveled. "Even if I want to go find the cave with the stone runes? Even if I feel it's more important to read more from the book I brought, and the old journals, than it is to sit among a bunch of sycophant nobodies?"

He laughed. "Yes, even then." Leaning closer to her, he brushed a long piece of hair from her shoulder, the tip of his finger touching her neck as he did. "You know, the trick is to look as bored as you can look. Ignore every last one of them. That will keep them at an arm's length."

She wanted to laugh. "Is that how you've kept everyone away from you all these years? You've acted like a snobbish hedgehog?"

He smiled. "By all means, call me names and disparage my demeanor, but yes, it's worked for me for years."

"It didn't keep me away," she found herself saying.

"Indeed it didn't," he replied in all seriousness. "Thank goodness for that."

A blush heat her face, she said, "I really think this is a waste of time."

He moved his hand from her shoulder, down to her hand, and he grasped it nonchalantly. "Actually, it's not. While we are all making merry here in the little village square, Potter is going to do some sleuthing… seeing as he's an Auror and all."

"Sleuthing?" she asked, intrigued. "Of what type? Perhaps I could help."

"You're so provoking," he said with a sigh. "Your only job here is to act the part of the last Valkyrie. Let everyone else worry about everything else." He looked at her thoughtfully.

She almost growled. He knew that she was feeling overwhelmed, but it couldn't be helped. Knowing that she hated that she was being thought of as nothing more than an unhelpful, annoying female, he felt her anger and was prepare for it, when she said, "You need to stop being condescending to me. You're not taking advantage of all I have to offer."

She turned away from Draco and frowned.

Moving his hand down her back, she turned back. He stared, achingly, into her mesmerizing brown eyes, while the smell of passion fruit and lilacs filled his senses. Not moving his eyes from hers for one moment, he responded, "No one thinks you're incapable, and you know it. It's just that you serve us better here. Besides, come tonight, you'll be without energy and feeling more tired than you've ever felt before. Believe me; the days right before your ascension can be as trying as the ascension itself. "

"And speaking of your ascension, and the party, and all, I have something to tell you." Grabbing her hand, he said, "Let's go get some air, where we can talk in peace, before we come back for the party."

"Why are you trying to get me away from here?" she asked, although she allowed him to force her to stand by grabbing his hand. He led her back toward the trees to the side of the little square.

"We have something important to discuss," he said, "And it's best if we do it away from prying eyes and ears. Likewise, I think I've found someone who knows a thing or two about Valkyries and the little necklace you're trying to hide under your sweater. She'll be here today, to help welcome you home, so to speak, but before you meet her, I need to tell you a thing or two about her. I also need to tell you about the ceremony today."

"Who is this mystery woman?" Hermione asked, reluctantly keeping her hand in his as he walked further away. "And what could you possibly have to tell me about today?"

The air around them was calm and cool, the breeze making the tops of the trees move in tandem, as the leaves began to fall earnestly from the limbs, scattering around them as they moved on a path toward the woods.

It was obvious that Hermione was going to be difficult, but this was something Draco had come to expect from her. Forcing her to rest her back against a tree, he leaned into her, caging her body with his, his arms above her head.

"The ceremony is a mating ceremony," he said quickly, hoping she was going to ignore his words as he said, "And the woman wrote the journals you have in your room."

With a look of outrage on her face, she pushed him away from her and grimaced. _'Ah, yes,_' Draco thought. _'Hermione Granger is back in all her glory.'_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 – The Lady in White**

_That we tell the twelfth, _

_Where the horse of the Valkyrie sees food on the battlefield,_

_Where twenty kings are lying,_

_Against the harmful skag-Valkyrie,_

_So that she never shall, though she never would,_

_Evil woman! – injure your life._

Draco froze as Hermione emerged from the inn wearing a long flowing gown of white gossamer silk. He honestly didn't think she would even come out of her room – not after he told her about the mating ceremony that was to happen tonight. Yet, here she was, in all her elegant splendor. He was mystified and electrified by her haunting beauty. Just when he thought he had his feelings of desire for her under control, she would do something like this, something as mundane as walking out of a door, toward a village green, with the last rays of sunshine bathing her in its warm, golden glow. He was a ruined man, under her spell, his own thoughts and wants beaten into submission by nothing more than a glimpse of her.

And apparently every man and woman here felt the same, for every eye was upon her. She smiled as she tilted her head in greeting to those around her. The wind blew her long curls in her face and she laughed as she reached up to remove them from her cheek.

She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Desire swept through him with a startling intensity, along with a deeper emotion he long thought was dormant in a man like him. He didn't want to examine the deeper feelings. He would prefer for them to dive back down to the dark, murky depths of his soul where they belong. Instead, they sprang forth and he felt like he was exactly what he was… a man in love.

At that thought she turned her head to look at him and frowned. The unspoken anger he saw in her eyes was like a knife in his chest. Apparently her smiles were a sham – or for everyone but him – not that it mattered. He would do his duty to her no matter what she wanted and no matter what he felt.

He had given his word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione looked over at Draco and frowned. She was still angry with him for not telling her about this antiquated mating ceremony before she came to this place. Perhaps if she had known she wouldn't have come. Now it was too late. It was too late for everything. Things would happen as they were meant to happen, and whether or not she wanted them to happen.

Walking toward the crowd, she saw Devlin step forward. He gave her an incongruous grin, which she couldn't decipher. Holding out his hand, he said, "Welcome home, Cousin."

She left his hand in the air. "This isn't my home," she said in a soft voice. "And I'm not pleased about this."

He raised his eyebrows in question. "I'm not pleased either, believe me; I didn't plan this little debacle. Your intended did." He placed a sarcastic twist to the word 'intended' and then turned to watch as Draco pushed through the crowd to join them in the middle of the crowd.

Draco reached down for her hand and pulled her away from everyone. Quietly he said, "You came."

"Did I have a choice?" she asked in return. "I understood that this was a part of everything… part of my ascension."

Draco could hear the resolute tone of her voice and it suddenly made him angry. "You can go back up to your room if you'd like. You don't have to go through with this. Do you honestly think I want to bind myself to you forever? No, I don't, but I'm doing my duty to my family."

She recoiled as if slapped, and he instantly regretted his tone. "I don't want you to do anything you find repulsive, such as marrying a mudblood. You go back up to your room, why don't you?"

He narrowed his eyes to stare at her. "If we don't go through with his mating ceremony – which by the by, isn't the same as a legal marriage – then every single Veela male here will fight for the right to stand by your side. We might as well let the battle begin at dawn, for that's what it will be, a battle."

"And how would that affect you?" she snapped. "It would be my problem, not yours."

Before he could comment, Devlin walked up to the pair. "I think it's time. Is there a problem here?"

"It's time when we say it's time," Draco retorted.

"Don't make a scene here, Malfoy," Devlin warned, his voice laced with a threatening menace that only made Draco laugh.

Grabbing Hermione's wrist in his hand, he pulled her back toward the middle of the green and said under his breath, "Go to hell, Halberdsen," although the only person who heard his request was Hermione. He pulled her to the side of the Inn and decided he should start over.

Guiding her to a bench by the steps, he stood before her as she sat and said, "Perfect evening for a feast, isn't it?"

Before answering, she looked out at the crowd of villagers as they moved around long tables filled with plates and dishes of food.

He cleared his throat. Her eyes darted back to him and she said, "You disappeared earlier. I mean, I know I ran away first, after your declaration about the purpose of this feast, as you call it, but about twenty minutes later I went to look for you and you were gone."

"I had things to do," he said vaguely. "Did you miss me?"

"Not at all," she commented in return. "I merely made an observation." Tilting her head toward the crowd in front of them, (but out of hearing range) she said, "Did you have anything to do with planning any of this."

"Truthfully?" he said.

"If you can," she leveled.

"Yes, a bit," he revealed.

"Did you leave this dress at my door?" she said.

"About that, yes, I did. It's why I was late. It was very hard to find a Valkyrie mating dress at the local mall," he teased.

She laughed. "Did you think I would show up wearing the bedspread from the bed?"

"Knowing you," he began, "you would probably wear the bathmat."

Clutching her hands together she said, "That makes no sense, and goes to prove that you DON'T know me. I would much prefer curtains over rugs." She turned her gaze back toward the party in the green.

He held out his hand to her. "Shall we take another short walk before the festivities begin?"

"Why?" she looked at his hand, still suspended in air, and added, "Do you have more bad news to tell me? Are we to consummate our mating in front of everyone, or something?"

He didn't answer. He wiggled the fingers on his hand, indicating that she should take his hand. With an exhaled breath she slapped his hand away and stood. "You know, I'm not in the mood for a party. We only have this evening and tomorrow to discover what's going to happen to me. I'm on edge as it is, and if you really wanted to set me at ease, you'd take me to the caves with the runes, or let me talk to someone who knows what's going on with me. You mentioned that there might be a woman to whom I could speak. I want to see her now."

Making a noise that sounded like a growl he said, "You can't go into the caves until it's your time. You wouldn't even be admitted, and I can't be admitted unless we go to the feast, and continue with the mating ceremony."

"That's stupid. Why?" She waited for his response.

He said, "I don't know. I guess it's ancient Veela magic."

"Good thing I'm not a Veela, then," she harped, bringing her hands to her hips as she stood before him.

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, causing her to squeal, even as she placed her hands on his chest for support. "You're purposely being obtuse, aren't you? It's VEELA not A VEELA. How many times must I tell you this?"

She started to smile, but quickly hid it. "Maybe I am being obtuse on purpose, Draco, but don't you see how frustrating all of this is for me? I'm sick with worry."

"Then let me help you, little love," he said as sweet as he could. Reaching one hand up to stroke her hair back, he said, "You really are prefect, aren't you?"

"Stop that. It will only upset me more. I hate to be patronized. No one's perfect." She placed her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes with a shiver.

Leaning his face close to hers he said, "You're perfect for me."

She opened her eyes. The sun drifted down through the leaves on the trees, casting them in both shadow and light. Regarding the sunlight in his silver-gray eyes, she questioned the truthfulness of that statement, but only to herself. She couldn't dispute it aloud, because there was something deep inside of her that wanted that statement to be true. She thought he might be perfect for her as well, which scared her more than all the unknown things facing her. Each layer of feeling became more overwhelming, making her sway in his arms.

Pulling her to his chest, he placed a protective hand on the back of her head and said, "Steady, sweetness." Turning her away from him and placing her arm through his, he started back toward the party and all the people milling about. The path was littered with sticks and leaves. The tree limbs acted as a protective canopy, where cascading sunlight continued to dapple down through the branches.

He waited until they were at the edge of the crowd then announced, "There's someone I'd like you to meet, Granger."

They approached an old woman who was sitting on a tree stump. Bowing to the woman slightly, Draco said, "May I introduce you to Hermione Granger – descendent of Ana Hansson, who was her great grandmother." Then, turning to Hermione, he said, "This is Helga Hofstadter. She's the matriarch of our family here in Sweden. She's my fourth cousin, three times removed, or some such shite."

Hermione looked appalled by Draco's turn of phrase, but the old woman merely smiled and said, "You were always an impossible child, Draco Malfoy, and I see you haven't changed since becoming a man. I'm glad." She spoke with accented English, and reached up her hand to Hermione.

Hermione took her hand and for the first time in weeks felt a sense of calm.

The old woman was still beautiful. It was hard to decipher her age, but Hermione would guess that she was somewhere between 80 to 90 years old. With her hand still grasped by the woman, she sat down next to her, on the same large tree stump. The woman looked up at Draco and said, "Yes, this will be an excellent match for the both of you. Well done, Draco Malfoy. Well done. Now leave us for a moment. I must speak to this young woman. She has questions for me, I can tell."

Draco winked at the woman, then smiled at Hermione and walked toward the crowd, which parted as well, leaving Hermione and Helga virtually alone.

"Well, Miss Granger, do you have questions for me?"

Hermione sighed. "I have a million."

The old woman laughed. "Let's start with just one, please."

Hermione smiled as well. "Will it hurt?" She hadn't meant to ask that question first, but it came out all the same. Clarifying, she said, "My ascension, will there be much pain?"

Releasing Hermione's hand, the woman said, "We don't know much about Valkyrie's ascensions. The last one was over two hundred years ago. We thought all Valkyries were extinct until you came along. We've been watching and waiting for years… hoping another Valkyrie would come along… hoping that would be you."

"Why?" Again, not the question she meant to ask, but she found she wanted to know. "I mean, why are you waiting so anxiously for the last Valkyrie?"

The woman took a moment to answer. "There's going to be another uprising, someday. Everyone here is too young to remember. The last Veela uprising happened when my own grandmother was a mere babe, but it was a bloody battle. When it was over, there weren't many left. There wouldn't have been any left, if it weren't for the Valkyrie. The Valkyrie chose who would live, who would die, and who would be victorious."

"That's a heavy burden to bear," Hermione said seriously. "How do you know they'll be another uprising, as you call it?"

She looked up at the sky, which at twilight, was still mostly light rather than dark. "It's written in the stars. It's been prophesied for centuries. It will happen. It always does."

"Leaving that aside," Hermione begged, "Can you tell me about this?" She pulled the pendant with the heavy amulet out from under her dress, placing it on top, over her heart."

"Ah yes, that's the mark of the Valkyrie. That's their emblem, their sign. That pendant around your neck is hundreds of years old. Moreover, only a true descendent of the original nine princesses could wear that. If I tried to touch it, or any other woman dared to wear it, it might very well kill us."

Hermione looked pensive then said, "My mother's touched it. And it once belonged to my grandmother, so I know she touched it, too."

"But they weren't Veela or magical, were they?" Helga inquired.

Hermione looked down at the pendant in her hand, dropped it back to her chest and shook her head no. "Will you be able to tell me what's in the journals I brought with me?"

"Of course," the old woman replied with a smile.

"I'll go get them," Hermione said, standing. "I can read some of it, mostly just the preludes at the start of each chapter, which is some sort of poem, but most of its written in Old Norse, which I don't understand."

"Sit down, dear," the woman prompted. "I don't need the journals in front of me to tell you what they say. I have them committed to memory. They are simply the story of the Valkyrie. I'll tell it to you, if you'd like."

"Please," Hermione said.

And the woman began…

"In Norse mythology, a Valkyrie, which is from Old Norse valkyrja, meaning 'chooser of the slain', is one of a host of female figures who decide which soldiers die in battle and which live. Selecting among half of those who die in battle, the other half go to the goddess Freyja's afterlife field Fólkvangr. The Valkyries bring their chosen to the afterlife hall of the slain, Valhalla, ruled over by the god Odin. Valkyries also appear as lovers of heroes and other mortals, where they are sometimes described as the daughters of royalty, sometimes accompanied by ravens, and sometimes connected to swans or horses.

"Archaeological excavations throughout Scandinavia, and especially here in this city, have uncovered amulets such as the one you're wearing, which depict Valkyries. In modern culture, Valkyries have been the subject of works of art, musical works, and poetry. I believe you read the poem most often associated with Valkyrie, as it's written in English in the beginning of each section of the journals."

Hermione nodded. "I know all of that, actually. I've read everything I could find out about Valkyries in both Muggle and Magical books. What I want to know is," she sighed, "I guess I want to know why it's so important. What does it all mean? How is it relevant to me and to today? What's fact and what's fiction?"

Helga laughed. "I wish we knew more so I could put your mind at ease, young woman. However, all we know are the stories that are handed down, generation to generation. Some of them are legend, or mythology, and some of them are true. All we really know for certain is that of the nine original Valkyrie fairy princesses, there is only one descent left, and that's you."

Hermione stood. "And the day after tomorrow I'll ascend, and no one knows what to expect, what it will mean to me afterwards, or why." Turning to look for Draco, she caught his eye and motioned for him to join her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hofstadter. I appreciate your time."

The woman stood, and just as Hermione started to walk toward Draco, she stopped her. Hermione turned back. "And I appreciate your candor, Miss Granger. I wish I could make your way smoother. I will, however, tell you this. Trust your own instincts, and let others make your way smoother when they can. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

"I hope so," Hermione said resolutely. With a small nod of her head, she turned away from the woman and walked toward Draco.

Once again he offered his arm to her. She accepted it with silence, and they mingled through the crowd slowly, enjoying the light breeze and the late summer splendor. Walking in silence, she noticed that he continued to look at her from the corner of his eye. It was terribly obvious that there was something more he wished to say to her. It was only that she was so weary at that point. She was almost beyond caring… almost.

She urged, "Do you have anything else to tell me? Any other surprises in store? Am I secretly pregnant?"

"Not yet," he quipped. She turned her head sharply at his comment and saw that he was smiling. Finally, "I'm trying to find the right words to say this next thing to you, but I know that no matter what I say, you'll become angry and sullen and you might hex me into next week. Do you have your wand?"

She inhaled a long breath. "Of course I do. Go on."

"I think we should marry." He said it so fast that she almost missed it… again, almost.

"Ah," she began. Stopped. Started again. "What's involved in this mating ceremony?"

"Way to change the subject," he replied. "We'll have to say a few words in front of the eldest member of my family, which would be Helga. Promise a few things, etc., etc… pledge our alliance, and like a marriage ceremony we'll talk all about sickness and health, death and dismemberment, and then I'll pledge to see you through your ascension by a holy covenant."

She was quiet for a long time. He steered her away from the center of the village toward the road.

Stopping by the edge of a stone wall, she sat down and said, "Death and dismemberment?"

He laughed. "I was beginning to wonder when you would notice that part."

"Is this what you were trying to tell me earlier? You know, when you tried to talk to me after breakfast?"

"Yes, but also, there's something important you need to know about the ceremony, and about the ascension. Something we most certainly do know, and you aren't going to like it, but that can't be helped." He lowered his voice, took her hand, and continued, "We'll have to exchange vows, pledges and – and – well, blood. It's just the once. Symbolic, if you will."

With a disgusted look on her face she said, "What if I want to miss that part?"

"You can't," he proclaimed. "And you won't want to, believe me. My blood will help protect you from others who might try to claim you."

"Seriously, Malfoy," she said, folding her arms in front of her, "do you think someone can just 'claim me' if I don't want them to do so?"

He waited. Then he answered. "Yes, I do. I've seen it happen."

She rolled her eyes. "Is that what you meant when you told me I would crave blood? That first day when we found out about this, you mentioned that I might crave blood."

He shook his head no. Turning so he wouldn't have to see her expression he said, "It's more complicated than that, and when I mentioned that to you, I meant during your ascension, there's a chance, if it's anything like Veela's ascension, that you might crave blood. We don't really know for sure."

"This whole thing stinks," she said like a petulant child. "How would we even do it? I don't have fangs, you know."

Grabbing her hands in his, he raised the right one to his lips, and then did the same with the left one. Her warm brown eyes widen, and he took that as a sign to kiss her lips. Impulsively, he pulled her to him, and gave her lips a quick but sweet kiss. "Neither do I, you know. Now, are you ready for the merriment and revelry that's about to ensue?" he asked.

"My head aches," was her answer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco knew just what she meant. He felt a dull ache in the back of his skull, too. This entire day was going downhill quickly, and tomorrow promised to be no better, and then the next day she would go through a hell, which he would strip from her if he could. He really would.

But since everything was inevitable, he took her hand back in his, feeding his warmth into her cold skin. Walking closer toward the crowd on the green, he acknowledged Potter with a nod to his head, and then walked with her back toward Helga Hofstadter.

Nearing the crowd and the old woman sitting on the large stump, Draco could feel Hermione's heart pound wildly by the pulse beating erratically under his fingertips as he held her wrist in his hand. She looked for a chance to flee, but Draco continued to hold her hand in a tight grip, and now Harry was standing at her other side. Before she could move a muscle, the old woman in front of them said, "We are about to begin. Gather around everyone. Gather around."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 – A Battle****of Blood**

_Helmeted Valkyries came down from the sky,  
>The noise of the spears grew loud, they protected the prince.<br>Then said Sigrun, the wound-giving Valkyries flew,  
>The woman's mount feasting on the fodder of ravens,<em>

_The battle won, Sigrun tells Helgi that he will become a great ruler, and pledges herself to him._

Standing beside Draco Malfoy, in front of the old woman with whom she had just spoken, Hermione tried to clear her mind from everything that was happening around her. None of this seemed real. As surreal as everything seemed, she knew that the hand that reached out to hold hers was at least real – Draco Malfoy's touch was tangible. She couldn't say the same for the rest of it.

The old woman was still speaking. Though her lips were moving, Hermione didn't hear a thing. She felt the blustering wind upon her face, sensed the chill of the afternoon air, she could even hear her own breathing, but she heard nothing else… until the screaming started.

Still clinging to Draco's hand, she was aware of being pushed to the ground. Suddenly, she could hear everything with an eerie clarity. Women screaming. Men shouting. A thunderous boom to her right. She tried to stand but faltered. Looking everywhere for Harry or Draco, she couldn't see anything for a bright-blinding light which wrenched through the crowd.

When the smoke cleared the old woman who was about to join Draco and her together as bonded-mates was lying on the ground in a crimson pool of bright, red blood. She was dead. Hermione finally struggled to her feet and pulled her wand out of the long pocket of her white dress. Moving behind the tree stump where the woman had sat moments before, she crouched down.

Looking out at the village green she saw only chaos and madness. Spells and curses were spewing back and forth. Men and women to the right of her were pulling tables over to act as shields even as a crowd to the left of her was running toward the trees. She was literally caged in between the warring factions. She was also disoriented and confused. There was no where to run that wasn't blocked by curses and bodies. The sounds of death and dying flooded all her senses, taking her back to the final battle at Hogwarts. Yet, something about this battle, so intense, so immediate, so strange, made her feel not afraid, but brave.

Though the skirmish raging around her was imposing, full of desperate men and women doing undoubtedly desperate things, she knew from experience that desperation led to death, and she wasn't about to die here, on foreign soil, for reasons unknown.

The people who had run toward the trees were now being chased by the others; just as a wild animal would rapaciously chase its prey. Moving from her hiding place behind the tree stump, she made her way to the other side of the inn, watching in bleak frustration as another woman fell to the ground in front of her. Lifting the long skirts of her dress, she dashed across the fallen woman and hide behind the farthest wall of building, only turning when she heard Draco Malfoy call out her name.

He ran to her. Placing his hands upon her face, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Of course she wasn't alright, but was anyone alright? "What's happening? What happened?" Pride insisted that she find the answers to her questions, so imagine how belligerent she felt when instead of answering her, he took her hand and pulled her away from the crowd.

She may have agreed to go with him, since her feet moved the way he pulled her, but she stopped when they were only a few meters away and demanded, "Stop! We have to help! What's happening?"

"Devlin Halberdsen, that's what's happening," he answered cryptically. "The man precipitated this battle. He never had any intention of letting us bond," he shouted. "I don't think he even intended for us to make it this far. We should have drowned, but when that didn't go as he planned, this happened."

"What is THIS?" she said, breathing heavily.

"It's the end of everything, unless I get you to safety," he groaned. "I should have known this would happen. Even Potter and my father's men saw it coming. I thought I could keep you safe."

"It's not up to you to keep me safe," she replied, moving back toward the side of the building. "I can keep myself safe."

"No, it's my job to watch out for you. We need to seek shelter. We need to hide until this is over!" he yelled.

Hermione wasn't about to run away from a battle. "We have to go back and help them. We have to find Harry and the other Aurors."

She dashed away from him, rounding the side of the building – back toward the fray – when she suddenly saw Devlin standing in front of her. A wicked gleam filled his eyes. She stopped short, leveled her wand at him, and demanded, "What's going on here?"

"Why dear cousin, don't you know? Haven't you already guessed? It's the end of things as you know it. I can't let your ascension happened. Therefore, I'm going to stop it no matter what else happens." He lifted his wand high and slashed it down in an arc without saying a word. Pain sliced through her cheek as if a sword had cut through her skin. Tasting the metallic taste of blood, she ignored the pain and leveled her wand back at him. There they stood, wands pointing at each other, chests heaving, sounds of the fight raging on around them.

Draco ran up to them, making a strangled sound behind her. The sound of his cry was horrifying, echoing through the thick air around them. She could almost feel his frustration and fear, although her back was to him.

A large black bird flew down toward them, the sound of its squeals loud and foreboding. It swept around them, confusing them, causing Halberdsen to fall back against the side of the building as Hermione covered her arms above her head. Heart beating fiercely in her chest, she watched with a strange sort of attachment as the bird flew back up into the trees.

Draco was in shock. How did all of this happen? They were standing in front of the Veela matriarch, the binding ceremony was about to begin, and then hell literally broke loose. Curses, hexes, and spells swirled around everyone. People began to run, others stayed to fight, and in the ruckus he lost sight of Hermione. Searching the crowd, he saw Halberdsen running toward the backside of the inn. Draco followed.

The man disappeared, but at least Hermione seemed safe, but confused. Bloody hell, Draco was confused, too. Still, he knew one thing for certain – all of this was Halberdsen's fault. After finding Hermione – and making sure she wasn't hurt – she had the gull to run away from him, back toward the side of the inn, where she confronted Halberdsen.

Seeing red, Draco screamed as Halberdsen sent a silent hex toward Hermione. The thought of that man hurting her was too much for him. He ran to them, no longer aware of the sights and sounds of the ongoing battle in the village square. With a curse and a scream, he approached them, when suddenly a large raven flew down, squawking and flapping its wings. Diving toward Halberdsen first, it caused the other wizard to fall backwards. Draco felt as if it took him forever to reach Hermione, who was covering her hair with her hands.

The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up when he saw that bird. It was a sign. It had to be. With the blur of movement left by the bird's ascent back into the air, he raised his wand arm and sent the first hex he thought of toward Halberdsen.

Then everything slowed. What happened next seemed to take an eternity, although it happened in the blink of an eye. Pain exploded in Draco's chest as a hex hit him before his hex hit the other man. He crumbled to the ground, lacerating pain in every nerve and bone. Moving his head to the ghastly sight of Hermione and Halberdsen in a duel, he tried to stand, but found even breathing close to impossible, so there was no way he would be able to stand. His vision began to fade and blur. Bringing his hand to his head, he brought it back to his side. He knew the sticky substance on his hand had to be blood from his head.

Finally, Hermione stood over him. She was talking to him, but he couldn't hear any sounds. He had a deep and primitive need to touch her, but his hands would not obey his brain's command.

Where was Halberdsen? Had she killed him? Were they safe?

Blood from her forehead was dripping down the side of her face, falling on Draco's chest. Her gown was torn, the sleeve hanging by a thread on her shoulder. A long strand of hair fell across her face as she knelt beside him. Closing his eyes as she placed her hand to his shoulder, he gripped his wand tightly and reached for her hand on his shoulder. Once he was holding her hand and his wand, he said one word, hoping she would understand. Hoping she would be able to take them to the only place she would be safe. He said, "The cave."

Hermione Disapparated Draco and herself deep into the forest. He wanted her to take him to the cave where she was to ascend, but she had no clue where the cave was, so there was no way she could take him there. With him lying on the ground next to her, she looked upwards to the sky, hidden behind thick branches still heavy with leaves. Considering her options, she spied a large black bird on one of the lower branches of the tree directly over them.

Could it be the same bird? Staring at it pleadingly, it flew back up in the air, the circled around them, and then flew away again. Hermione decided to follow the bird. She didn't know why, it was something instinctual. Draco's arm in one hand, her wand in the other, she Disapparated again. The bird was directly overhead. It started to fly away again, so Hermione continued to follow it.

The bird led them out of the forest to the side of a craggily cliff. The raven landed on a small tree near the rock face. Looking underneath the bird, she saw the mouth of a cave, hidden on the side of a hill, behind brambles and shrubs. Having never been here before, she was shocked she had found it. Thanking the bird silently, she wondered if this was the cave where she was to make her ascension. Deciding it didn't matter (the only thing that mattered at this point was to make sure Draco was safe) she rushed to Draco's head, reached under his upper body, hooked her hands under his arms, and pulled and pulled until she had him safely inside the mouth of the cave.

Once he was safely inside she put a cloaking ward on the entrance, and then stooped down beside him, placing a hand in his hair. With a long, heavy sigh she lit her wand and then gasped at the sights around her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 – The Cave and the Runes**

_They were loud, yes, loud,_

_When they rode over the burial mound,_

_They were fierce when they rode across the land,_

_Shield yourself now; you can survive this strife,_

_Out, little spear, if there is one here within,_

_It stood behind lime-wood, under a light-coloured/light-weight shield,_

_Where those mighty women marshaled their powers, and they send shrieking spears._

Lighting her wand, Hermione noticed that the cave was larger than she expected it to be. Although the entrance appears small and cramped, with a low ceiling, once she stepped past the entrance she noticed a huge, long room in front of her. To her left was the cave wall, with sconces built right into the rock face. Along with the sconces, were runes and cave drawings, most of which she'd never seen.

With a simple flick of her wand each sconce was lit and soon she was able to see the rest of the cave beyond the path where she was standing. To the right were tiered shelves, built into the rocks, each one as large as a common household room, and tiered in layers, one on the other, leading downward. At the bottom was a circular rock floor, waist-high walls around it, a small underground creek running through the middle, with a stone podium in the very center.

She turned back toward the entrance, tried to rouse Draco, although at this point he was unconscious. Wondering if she could perform more than simple feats of magic in the cave, she lifted her wand and tried to levitate him into the main portion of the cave. She levitated him through the doorway leading to the larger section of the cave, past the wall on the left, to the area where the tiered shelving formed the large circular center.

Placing Draco's body on the second from the top tier, she walked back to the cave entrance to reinforce the wards.

Though the sconces surrounding this underground area were plentiful, there was still some sort of light source making its way into the cave. Looking up at the stalactites and then down at the stalagmites, she inhaled sharply when she saw that each one, including the few that made columns in the cave, were sparking. Walking over to one, she placed her hand on it. It almost appeared wet, and although it was cold to the touch, it was dry. But it sparkled. Odd.

The cave was full of other surprises as well. The water in the small rushing stream went from underneath one wall, then to an outlet under the opposite. The water sparkled more than the walls and columns, in fact, a dim light emitted from the water. Leaning over carefully, she saw her reflection as clearly as if she were looking in a mirror.

Next, she went over to the small alter, which was actually a square stone edifice on top of a large boulder. Standing next to the small pulpit, she placed both hands on top, flat on the surface, then jump backwards, gasping.

"I don't believe it," she mumbled to herself. Stepping up to it again, she slowly placed her hands back upon the top, and when she did, she noticed a cutout in the top of the stone altar, which wasn't there when she looked down the first time. It was in the exact shape as the amulet that she wore around her neck. She knew what she had to do. Removing the amulet and chain from her neck, she set the heavy pendant in the place in the center of the stone. It fit exactly, as if it were a lost piece of a puzzle. As soon as she set it in its home, runes and symbols appeared on the top of the rock, and all around the amulet. Keeping her hands on the top surface, she glanced up and looked on in awe as the entire cave filled with a brighter light than before, and runes and symbols began to appear, almost as if they were fresh etchings, on all the walls around her.

She removed her hands slowly, certain the runes would disappear if she did, but they remained. Glowing and almost dancing before her eyes. What did they mean? Mysteriously, they were familiar to her. She realized that many were the same runes that were in the journals she found in her parents' attic. She walked up to one that was on the lower rock wall, near where she stood, and she placed a hand upon it. A feeling of peace swept through her.

Somehow, she knew everything would be alright.

Draco woke while Hermione was examining the runes on the walls. She seemed almost mesmerized by them, and with good reason. The entire cave was filled with them, and they actually glowed. They glowed! Draco had never seen anything like this before, and he doubted he would ever see it again. He had a feeling that after Hermione's ascension, they would all disappear.

Draco had been to this cave only once. One time, when he was younger, and his family was visiting with their Veela relatives in Vanaheim, his father and mother and he, along with some distant cousins, came to explore these caves. Apparently, as they were told at the time by Helga Hofstadter, they would not have been able to enter the caves if there were any Valkyries around near their ascensions. But, since all Valkyries were thought to be extinct at that time (Draco was only fifteen) they were able to enter. At that time, Helga told them all that she had seen a prophecy that there would be another Valkyrie within the next ten years, and she would be the most powerful of them all. She said that the girl would be a Muggle-born witch, and that she was a descendent of the Hansson family, who was the last family known to produce a Valkyrie, two hundred years before.

As she spoke, Lucius Malfoy pulled Draco aside and said, "We must discover who this witch is. She must be around your age, since Valkyries ascend at age twenty-five. Of course, she could be anywhere in the world."

Draco remembered laughing and he said, "What if it was Granger – Hermione Granger? Wouldn't that be our luck?" At the time he said it, he didn't believe it, and apparently neither did his father.

But the conversation between father and son was overheard by another party in the cave that day. Devlin Halberdsen, cousin to Granger's future husband, Jonathon Hagen.

The rest was, as they say, history. The Halberdsen family began to watch Granger, and when she was about twenty-one they decided that she was the future Valkyrie that Helga saw in her prophecy. That got Lucius Malfoy's interest, and he too began to watch her. Then Halberdsen's family went one step more… they had Jonathon Hagen court and then marry her.

When he died, quite suddenly, Lucius petitioned the head of the Veela families in Sweden to have his family named her protector. Since Lucius' family was older and more powerful than the Halberdsen/Hagen family, he was granted his bequest. Draco remembered when he was told that he would have to marry the girl he had grown up hating. He fought his father, even threatened to run away. Still, he agreed to go to the meeting at her lawyer's office, to meet with Halberdsen, and to tell her about her fate.

When she appeared that day, so lost looking, so tired and forlorn, his heart softened toward her. Then she had the audacity to 'choose' him over Halberdsen, not even beginning to know the implications of her words. If a Valkyrie on the eve of her ascension 'chooses' a Veela for her mate, it cannot be undone.

Yet, they didn't get to mate, did they? Halberdsen stopped the mating ceremony before it could happen, and now she was less than twenty four hours from the day of her ascension, and she hadn't chosen a mate, she hadn't prepared in any way for that fateful day, and the only two people in the cave were her and him, and he was as in the dark about everything as she was.

They were in terribly deep shite. He groaned – in pain and frustration – and sat up from his place on the hard, cold slab of stone. That was when she looked up from the center of the cave floor below him. She saw that he was awake and sitting up and she did something that shocked him. She smiled. Then she said, "I know what it all means."

Great. At least someone did.

A/N: Short chapter, but it was originally part of the last chapter. I discovered I had left out a portion of the poem – so I divided the original chapter 12 into two chapters, so I could put the lost bit of poem in its right spot. Believe it or not, I only have two more chapters outlined, so unless I decide to add a bit more, this story is almost over! Thanks to everyone who's read it and followed. Coming up next, her ascension!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 – Time to Begin**

_Settle down, victory women,_

_Never be wild, and fly to the woods,_

_Be as mindful of my welfare,_

_As each man of eating and of home._

Draco groaned and sat up from his place on the hard, cold slab of stone. Hermione looked over at him from her place in the center of the cave floor below him. Smiling at him, she said, "I know what it all means."

He rubbed his head. "You know 'what' what means?" He tried to stand up, decided against it, and sat back down. "By the way, how did I get here?"

"The caves specifically, on up there?" she asked.

"Both, either, neither, I don't care," he said weakly. "My head hurts."

She continued to smile at him and said, "You, sleeping beauty, were out like a light. You were injured in the little fight between Halberdsen's people and your people. You said one word before you passed out – caves – and so I brought you here."

He looked more interested. "I don't think I passed out, but that aside, how did you find these caves? I've only been here once. I'm not sure I could have even found them on my own."

Shrugging, she walked up to where he sat and placed her elbows on the rock near his legs. "A raven showed me the way."

"A raven?" he asked, surprised. "Like… a bird, a raven?"

"Yes." She walked back over toward the stone altar. "Just like in the poem about Valkyries. Ravens are supposed to help Valkyries find their way, and that's what happened."

"You seem pretty sanguine about it all," he replied.

"That's because everything finally makes sense." She motioned to the runes written around the walls. "I can read these. I know what they say, and I know what they mean." She moved from the raised dais, back to where he lay. "Can you read them?"

"Hell, Granger," he began, "this is the first time I've ever seen them. When I was here before, there were other runes, but nothing like this. These ones glow." He turned from where he sat and placed a hand on one of the glowing etchings on the wall.

"You've never seen these ones before?" she asked.

He shook his head no.

"Hmm, interesting." She walked back over to the stone altar, removed the pendant, and the glowing runes and etchings disappeared. She placed it back gently and they reappeared. "It's the amulet," she clarified. "It causes these runes to appear."

"How is it you can read them, though?" he asked. "I've never seen these before. They're foreign to me, but perhaps I'm not meant to understand them. Perhaps only you're meant to know their meaning."

He scooted over toward the edge of where he was sitting, letting his legs dangle down. "How did you know that amulet from your mother's attic would make these appear?"

"I didn't know," she explain, coming back to stand near him. "I only suspected. There's a cutout on the top of this stone in the center, which matches the shape of the pendant. Now, do you want to know what these say, or not?"

"Tell me, oh wise one," he said with a smile. "Wait, how can you suddenly read them?"

"Again, I don't know, but I can," she confirmed. "And they don't shed much light on my ascension or anything. They basically tell the same story that was written in the journals I found. It's the same as the poem about the Valkyries."

She walked over to the farthest wall, while still standing in the bottom of the cave, and she began to read the runes aloud. Walking along the circular bottom of the large, cavernous room as she read, she stopped reading at the same spot where she began.

When she finished she turned to smile at Draco, feeling happy that she could understand the runes. However, she gasped when she saw that he was slumped over on his side on the stone tier where he had been sitting just moments ago. With her heart beating rapidly in her chest, she climbed up the rock to where he lay on his side. He looked so pale – paler than usual. She tried to revive him with her wand and an incantation, but he remained still.

Looking around, she spied the underground stream. Jumping down, she ran to it. Transfiguring a piece of slate into a cup, she dipped it into the freezing, cold water. Taking a timid drink first, (to make certain it was okay to consume) she filled it back up and then ran back over to Draco.

"Draco?" she called out again. She shook his shoulder. She placed a hand on his forehead. "Draco?" Again, he was perfectly still. She could see he was breathing, but he wasn't moving.

So she did the only thing she could think to do to revive him. She threw the freezing cold water right on his face.

His eyes were still closed. His hair was wet, as was his shirt, but he was still unconscious. His arms were limp beside his body. There was no movement at all. Placing a hand on his cold, sculptured chest, covered with a wet shirt, she felt his heart beating.

Hermione paced around the room, looking at the runes again. Mesmerized by them, she was still shocked that she suddenly knew what they meant. She stopped her musing to look back down at Draco. The sight of him lying so still caused her panic. Had he hit his head? Was it a curse?

"Draco?" she said, even if calling his name didn't help the first two times. He still didn't move.

The way he was so still caused her panic to increase. He had woken once, but now appeared unconscious. Drawing closer to him, she realized that he had to be fine, for his chest continued to rise and fall with each breath that he took.

Leaving him for another moment, she climbed back up to the cave's entrance, recalling that she had spied pieces of wood and twigs near the entry. Gathering as much of it together as she could, she brought it back down beside him, and used it and her wand to start a fire. Once she was assured he was warm, and drying, she tried to revive him again. Shaking him gently, she said, "It's really time to wake up, Draco Malfoy."

The smell of the fire hung deep in the air. She looked over at it and saw wisps of smoke curling and drifting upwards toward the cave's ceiling, disappearing in a crack along the top. Since fire needed oxygen to smoke, it reasoned that there was probably enough oxygen for them to survive being stuck here for days, if necessary. That relieved one of her worries, but many other ones remained. What if Draco didn't wake up in time for her ascension? What if everyone was still fighting in the village? What if Devlin and his men found them? Then the scariest thought occurred to her: What if she died during her ascension, and no one ever found them down here?

She looked back over toward Draco, a worried expression on her face, only to find him staring at her. "Draco?" she whispered.

"Why am I all wet, Granger?" he asked, sitting back up.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling and said, "Caves often have water dripping from the ceilings and walls. Some must have dripped onto your face. And hair. And shirt."

Frowning, he put his hands through his wet hair. "It must have been a bloody rain cloud, not just a drip, Granger. And yet, you're not wet, are you?"

She climbed back up beside him and reached out to touch his wet shirt. "You passed out again. It's becoming a bad habit of yours, it would seem. I tried to revive you."

"By drowning me?" he barked.

She touched her wand to his shirt and dried it instantly. "Don't overreact, oh, and don't pass out again, if you can help it. I might need your help, and you won't be that helpful unconscious."

"For your information, I didn't pass out," he claimed.

She smiled. "Fine, you fainted."

He sucked in a gasp of offense and said, "Malfoys do not pass out or faint, Granger. You take that back."

She sighed. "Okay. You didn't pass out. You didn't faint. You were merely unconscious. Is that better?"

He thought for a moment. "If I was indeed unconscious, which I'm not saying I was, but if I was, for just a bit, which is plausible as I don't recall certain things, such as how I got here, or became wet, I hope you realize that it was beyond my control, and you merely telling me to stop it, will not, in fact, make me stop it."

She repeated, "Fine, faint again, see if I care."

"I didn't faint!" he repeated. "This is getting old."

"Whatever you say, Draco." She leaned her back against the stone wall beside him. Picking up a small twig from the fire, she twirled it around and then threw it back into the fire. "I just don't want to go through my ascension by myself. I don't know how long we've been down here, or even if it's day or night, but I have a feeling it's about to happen soon. I'm afraid."

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He looked down at her, and with the light of the fire flickering off her hair and skin, he was struck again by how very beautiful she was. Painfully so. "You know it's okay to be afraid of things we've never experience before, or of the unknown. Point in fact, I'm afraid that I owe you a giant debt of gratitude, something foreign to me, I must say."

She pulled on a button of his shirt, and without looking up at him, she said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I think I need to thank you, Hermione." His voice was gruffer than he meant for it to be.

She looked up at him, just as his hand came to cup her cheek. "Thank me for what?"

"You save me, back there, during the fight." Moving his hand down her cheek, he skimmed the top of her arm with his fingertips, and then linked his hand with hers. "That's the second time you saved me, too. You saved me when the boat capsized, and then again during the fight. You were very brave."

"Just fulfilling my Valkyrie destiny," she said lightly. "The Valkyrie is supposed to save the handsome prince, you know."

"You think I'm handsome?" he smiled, bringing her hand up to his mouth to place a chaste kiss on the top.

"Yes, you're very handsome, and until the prince comes along, I'll just have to continue saving you, every time you faint." She laughed.

He smiled in spite of himself.

Sliding off the rock, she said, "Let me get you some more water." Picking up the cup, she started toward the stream on the other side of the cave, when suddenly she dropped the cup from her hand and fell in a heap on the floor.

Draco quickly moved from the rock and knelt down beside her. He placed a hand in her hair and said, "You're suddenly burning up with fever, Granger."

She turned to her back, her arms wrapped around her middle. "Everything hurts, Draco. My head, my stomach, my legs. What's happening?"

"Sweet Merlin," he mumbled, gathering her into his arms, holding her tight. "It's your ascension. It's happening. It's time."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 – The Ascension**

_Once the Idisi sat, sat here and there,_

_Some bound fetters, some hampered the army,_

_Some untied fetters;_

_Escape from the fetters, flee from the enemy._

Hermione's stomach was cramping. It felt as if there was a chain around her waist, tied in knots, being squeezed tighter and tighter until she could barely breathe. Pain, bright and alive, burst from her eyes and she had to close them, even though the light was dim in the dark cave.

She was aware of someone calling her name, touching her forehead, stroking her hair, but each and every place the person touched, from her hair to the soles of her feet, felt as if electricity was being channeled through every nerve ending. Her skin was on fire.

Taking shallow breaths, she realized she was crying from pain and fear. This was it, and it felt like hell. Withering in pain, her legs began to saw back and forth. She struck at the hands roaming her body, as the person tried to move her over to her back. She wanted to cry out for them to stop touching her, but the pain was so intense that she couldn't speak – she could only cry.

Suddenly, she sat up and screamed a soul-piercing scream, and then she jackknifed back into a small ball on her side.

She was on fire. She was in the worst pain of her life, and she was probably going to die. She rolled from her back to her side and waited to die; wished for death to overcome her, so she could find some peace.

She begged, "Please help me" and then she screamed again.

Then she stopped moving – completely.

Draco realized that it was happening too fast. He couldn't believe how quickly her symptoms came about, reigning down fire and hell upon her. His ascension took hours, with the pain starting small and building in intensity, but even at its worse, he knew it was nothing compared to the pain she was feeling at this moment. His symptoms happened in stages – coming gradually. All of her symptoms were happening at once, a kaleidoscope of agony that was as hard for him to watch as it was for her to endure.

He brushed his hands over her forehead. Her skin was hot and clammy. When she opened her eyes, her pupils were large, dilated, and burning brightly with pain and agony. She seemed partially unconscious, as she couldn't hear him as he tried to reassure her. Tears washed down her face, hands batted at his, and then she screamed louder than Draco had ever heard a person scream. He was at a total loss of how he could help her.

The scream was so loud it sounded like a cannonball exploding. The sound reverberated and echoed off the walls of the hollow cavern. He tried to lift her, to cradle her in his arms, but she fought his touch, her hands flailing around.

She screamed a second time, crying out, "Please help me," right before the scream left her lips.

After that, she was complete still, scaring him even more than before.

The fire of her skin turned instantly cold to his touch. The only movement from her body was a small twitch of her right hand, and the slight rise and fall of her chest. At least she was breathing, but it was shallow and ragged.

She was so pale, so lifeless. Draco didn't know what to do. What did she need? What was to be done? He looked around the cave, saw his wand lying on the rock shelf where he had been laying, and he ran over and grabbed it. Coming back to her, he got down on the ground beside her, pulled her so that she was reclining with her back against his chest and said a spell to lance the wrist of his opposite arm.

She started to slip down, so he placed his wand arm under her breasts, pulled her back into a sitting position, and then without knowing if it would help, he placed his bleeding wrist up to her mouth.

His blood would be her life source. The thought filled him with some unnamed and unknown emotion. He could only hope his instincts were right and that this would save her.

"Drink, little love," he said aloud, willing the same thought in his mind. "Drink, Hermione."

Feeling desperate and afraid, he placed her gently back on the cave floor, reclined beside her and positioned his wrist back at her mouth.

Nothing was happening, except that he was bleeding all over her. Nothing else was happening. She was completely still now. When he touched her wrist to feel for a pulse, all he felt was cold skin. Lifting his trembling fingers to her neck, he searched for a pulse again… nothing. He found nothing.

A frantic cry burst forth from his lips. She was dying, or was perhaps already dead, and he could do nothing about it. He couldn't help her in anyway. He screamed and cried, dragging her lifeless body back into his arms. Shaking with fury, he cursed loudly and then to his surprise, he began to cry.

Hermione knew she was awake, although she couldn't seem to move. In an odd way, she felt as if she was outside her body, watching as events unfolded. She looked around and saw her own body lying in Draco's arms.

He was rocking back and forth, crying, his arms holding her tightly against his chest. Why was he crying? Was she dead? She didn't want to die.

With that thought, the cave suddenly filled with an intense, bright light. Whiteness and haze blinded her. To her left, up on the higher walkway that led to the mouth of the cave, she saw four women. Each one was beautiful. They looked just like the women from her dreams… long flowing hair, white gossamer gowns, breast-plated armor, and swords in their hands.

She was about to ask them who they were and why they were there, when she felt someone touch her shoulder. Forgetting about Draco and her lifeless body on the floor, she turned to face four more women, similar to the four above her.

The one who had touched her shoulder pointed her sword toward the gory scene on the floor near their feet. She spoke, not aloud, but in Hermione's head. "You must drink from the prince. If you do not, you will surely die."

Hermione glanced back toward Draco, and then looked at the beautiful woman. "The prince?"

The woman nodded. Another one said, "His blood will make you strong. It will end the ascension. It will be your life-source. It will save you so that you may live to save him. You will live to save them all."

"Who will I save?" she asked.

One of the women from the top walkway came down to join the other four. When she was beside them she replied, "You will save the Veela. It is your destiny, and just as we all fulfilled our destinies, so shall you fulfill yours. You must save this man and his race. It is your purpose."

The woman reached out and placed a hand on Hermione's chest, above her heart. Warmth began to suffuse through her, as if the sun had broken free from dark clouds. The woman said, "You are the ninth… the last of us, the most of us. You are the last Valkyrie. We've waited a long time for you to come. You are brave and strong and good, and you will make us all very proud to call you sister."

Hermione looked at the beautiful women who were now all standing in a semi-circle around her. Then, she looked back at the floor, where Draco was silently rocking her body back and forth.

"Go now, Reginleif," the first woman urged. "You will be known as the power-truce. You will be the bearer of a final peace among the Veela. You are ready. Go fulfill your destiny, but know that we shall always be with you. We shall wait on the shores of Valhalla, and many, many years from now you will join us there. Only then will we be nine strong. But not now. Go."

And just like they appeared, they vanished and Hermione felt herself being pulled back to her body. Draco flinched when she moved. She grasped his wrist with both hands and brought it up to her mouth, sucking hard.

With his free hand, he smoothed her hair away from her forehead and said, "Welcome back, little love. Welcome back."

Draco tightened his arms around her. He felt light and at peace, knowing she was back, and that it was his blood giving her a second chance. She continued to take big gulps, pulling his blood into her mouth. It didn't hurt. He felt no pain, only joy. It made him feel strong, wanted, and happy.

Holding her in his embrace, he said the words he had been longing to say for the longest time. He said, "I love you, Hermione. I love you almost too much. I thought I'd lost you."

She let his wrist slip from her hands, and then turned her body to look up at him with a burning intensity. "You did lose me for a moment, but I'm back. Is it over?" she asked, her voice nothing but a hoarse whisper.

"I think it is," he responded. "It seems your ascension occurred faster than Veela ascensions. Are you aware of anything being different?"

"No. Do I look the same?" she wondered aloud.

He moved so that he could face her. "You look a bit worse for wear, and you have blood all over your dress, but…" He stopped.

"But?" she urged.

"But you're more beautiful to me than ever," he replied honestly.

She told him all about the ascension, how she felt, the pain and the burning and confusion. Then she told him what she saw when she left her body, about the eight beautiful women, and that she was the last Valkyrie – the ninth – and that the prophecy that Helga told them about was true.

When she was done, she asked, "So are you some sort of prince? I know you often acted like a royal pain in the arse when we were in school, but the one Valkyrie called you 'a prince'."

Sighing loudly, Draco said, "She called me a prince because I am one. I couldn't tell you any of this in the beginning, because I was bound by the laws of our clan to remain quiet until after your ascension."

Frowning, she asked, "Will you explain it all to me now?"

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Then he took his wand and cleaned the blood from her, even as he healed his wrist. Actually, he was stalling for time, trying to form the words in his mind. He moved to lean against the stone wall, pulling her close, his hand holding hers.

"There are two royal fractions left, although they are basically from the same family. Ours and Halberdsen's. Different clans fall under the sovereignty of these two families, although right now, our line is the strongest, with the most Veela."

"Many years ago, many centuries really, there were numerous royal families, and each one was protected by its own Valkyrie. The Veela took the name of that Valkyrie as their own. Their names were: Skuld, which in Old Norse means 'future', Skögul, meaning 'shaker', Gunnr, meaning war, Hildr, meaning battle, Göndul, meaning wand-wielder, and Geirskögul, which means 'Spear-Skögul'. Then there was Skeggjöld, which means 'axe-age', Hlökk, meaning 'battle' and the last one, Reginleif, which means 'power-truce'.

Hermione said, "That's nine. Were there originally nine Valkyries, or am I the ninth. The one woman called me 'power –truce'. She referred to me as Reginleif. I'm so confused. I don't understand."

"I don't understand everything either. Each family took the name of a Valkyrie, but these Valkyries weren't all in existence at the same time. I'm not certain I understand it all, I only know that each one would appear when that specific family needed them most, during battles or times of strife. You see, each family ruled over their own clans, but the numbers diminished through battles and wars. The numbers diminished even more throughout the years as Veela began to intermarry with Wizards, and they began to forget the old ways, they gave up their Veela ancestries. Eventually, there was only one royal line left, but it split into two factions, one being represented by my family, and one represented by Halberdsen. Our royal line is called Reginleif."

"And I guess that would be me," Hermione said solemnly. "The one lady told me I would bring the lasting peace to the Veela."

"Makes sense, since the name Reginleif means power-truce. That's a lot to live up to," Draco said with a smile.

"Indeed," she agreed with a sigh. "So you and Halberdsen are really from the same royal line?"

"Yes," he said. "We're family, as much as that pains me to admit, but we split apart centuries ago. Your ex-husband, Jonathon Hagen was the original prince of their line, but when he died, the title went to Devlin Halberdsen."

Frowning, she said, "I wonder if Devlin had anything to do with Jon's death."

"I'd stake my life on it," Draco said. He pulled her against him, his arm around her shoulder. "The prophecy says there can only be one prince remaining for the ever-lasting peace of the Veela. Only one to rule over all the rest. The last Valkyrie will be on this prince's side, and he shall be victorious."

"And that's why Jon married me," she deduced.

Draco nodded. "And that's why I believe Halberdsen tried to kill you before your ascension, because you picked me that day in the solicitor's office. You aligned yourself, unbeknownst to you, with my line, meaning I would be the last prince. If there's no Valkyrie, there would be no single prince, and no peace."

"And that's why he tried to kill you, too," she said, bringing her hand to his face. "No Draco meant he'd be the last prince."

"I guess," Draco agreed.

"So I'll kill him instead," she said, matter of fact. "It's the only way to ensure peace."

"What a bloody thirsty little thing you've become… literally," he smiled, holding up his healed wrist.

"Sorry about that," she said bashfully. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

"Not at all," he said, stroking his fingers down her cheek. "It was what I had to do, and I was happy to do it."

She bit her bottom lip. "Did you mention something about making love as part of the ascension?"

"Why, Granger," he laughed, "You have changed, haven't you?"

"I just really need you right now, Draco," she said sincerely, placing her hands upon his shoulders.

He pulled her to him and said, "And I need you." He removed her hands from his shoulders, brought one of them to his mouth, and kissed her wrist. Dropping her hands, he let his slide down her waist, to her hips, and then his right hand moved from her waist up to her breast. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her breast until her nipple hardened. He ducked his head down and kissed the peak through her dress.

She threw her head backwards, while he kept his hands on her back, to keep her from falling over onto the hard cave floor. Clinging tightly to his shoulders, she pulled him closer, and he fell, twisting at the last moment so he took the impact of falling to the hard, stone floor. With her legs hooking around his lower back, he grasped her bottom, and then began to kiss her neck and chest.

She couldn't remember a time when she felt as raw and bare, even vulnerable, as she did right now. But the one thing she didn't feel was fear. Passion exploded between them as his mouth took hers in a harried kiss, which was oddly gentle. She felt worshipped and loved by his mouth.

She closed her eyes, and allowed him to remove her clothing, even as he continued to kiss her neck and her breasts. When she was naked to the world, his mouth returned to hers, his kiss echoing throughout her entire body, just as her moan echoed throughout the cave.

She truly felt that they belonged together. Full of strange and new emotions, she pulled his face up so she could stare into his eyes and said, "I love you, too. I didn't say it earlier, but I do. And I think you're beautiful. You're still a prat, through and through, but a beautiful prat, and you belong to me."

His laughter tickled her neck as he kissed her. "And you belong to me. Who would have ever believed such a thing?"

She was shocked to discover that he was right. She did feel like she belonged to him. Her whole world was in the circle of her arms. It consisted of this moment, this man, and these feelings.

And when he kissed the valley between her breasts, and placed one nipple in his mouth, she threw her head back, gripped him harder between his thighs, and let out a scream.

Arching away from him, he placed one hand between their bodies and one hand in her hair. He entered her swiftly, keeping a steady pace until she was close to climax. Her eyes opened and she clung to his shoulders. She thought he looked dazed, perhaps as dazed as she felt.

Strangely, a shimmering light filled the dark cave, and she felt awed by it all. She felt glorious, and almost like a goddess, as the mystifying light intensified. She truly felt as if he was claiming her and she was claiming him as well. His warm body caged hers, making her feel safe and warm.

Placing one hand on either side of her body, he leaned down toward her so their bodies were level. He was still inside her, and she looked up at him and he was amazed to realize that the bright light was coming from her, and it bounced off the features of her face. She was beautiful. She filled him with her warmth, and the essence of knowing this was their destiny.

She reached up, cupped his cheek and said, "You're mine, Draco. Mine to hold. Mine to protect. Mine to love."

Her words felt like a whisper to his soul. He felt worshipped as his love flowed from him to her. The light continued to ripple around them, his body on top of hers, completing her, and molding to her. His head fell into the crook of her neck and he said, "And you're so beautiful that it almost hurts to gaze upon you."

He continued to kiss her everywhere; he rose back up, looked at her and said, "You've filled me with your light. I'm overflowing… and I can't hold back any longer."

"Draco," she whispered as a reply.

His name on her lips was a proclamation. It was a sign. He shuddered at the sound of his name on her lips. Over and over again, repeatedly, she said his name as he kissed and touched and made love to her. It was the most exquisite experience of his life.

His fingers tightened on her hips, as he continued to stroke her in and out, and finally she climaxed fully, the tremors rising and falling, causing him to slip over the edge with her.

His last coherent thought became a pledge to her. He said, "I love you."

He continued to whisper words to her, but they seemed to be drowned out by the sounds of her heart beating, and her ragged breathing. She urged his face toward hers with her fingers on his cheek, and then she looked right in his eyes and said, "I love you, too. Now, let's get dressed and get this thing over and done. We need to find Halberdsen and end this."

Draco kissed her hard and said, "I love a strong woman."

_A/N – Only one more chapter!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 – The Final Battle****Begins and Ends**

_I send you, I look at you, _

_Wolfish perversion and unbearable desire, _

_May distress descend on you and jöluns wrath. _

_Never shall you sit, _

_Never shall you sleep ... (that you) love me as yourself._

Hermione and Draco climbed up to the opening of the cave, wands at the ready clutched tightly in their hands. When they reached the cloaked exit, Draco implored, "Let me go out first. There might not be anyone out there, but if there is, I want to be the first one they see."

Hermione didn't like that plan. "Why? You're the one he tried to kill last night."

Draco spun on his heel and gave her a steeling glance from his grey eyes. "That was only to stop the mating ceremony, which was a moot point, since it didn't occur anyway, and you still ascended this morning. But it was YOU who he tried to kill all the other times, of that I'm certain. You have to let me do this for you, especially as you've fully ascended. He most certainly will want you dead now."

Clinching her jaw tightly so she wouldn't argue, she glared at him with a set look in her eyes.

He could read that look like the back of his hand. Returning her set look with one of his own, he reminded her, "You must feel depleted… and we can't even be certain that your magic wasn't affect by the ascension, which I'll remind you only happened a short while ago."

"My magic certainly wasn't 'depleted'. Let's make a deal," she urged at the same moment that her wand passed over the opening. "We'll make a portal in the cloaking so we can see out, but they can't see in, and if there's no one out there waiting for us, we leave together, agreed?"

"Do I have a choice? You already made the blasted portal!" he barked. "I'm pretty damn certain you're going to do whatever else you want to do anyway."

"You're right. You have no choice, and I'm going to do this anyway," she replied tenderly. Placing her hand on his chest, she said, "I can take care of myself. I've been doing so for a long time, and things are even different now. I can't explain it, but I feel… well, I guess I feel more powerful and stronger than ever before."

Draco grabbed her hand in his instead of replying, and turned to look out the 'portal' she created in their ward. They stared out toward the trees in the forest. It was late morning now, and the sun was high in the sky. The tops of the trees bowed slightly with a northern wind. Everything seemed quiet and calm.

Then, they both noticed something move in a hedge a short way in front of them. Hermione's skin prickled – not with fear – but with anxiousness. Suddenly, a man appeared from behind the hedge. It was Devlin. He didn't look threatening. His entire demeanor was relaxed.

When he stepped from the hedge, other men and women, all Veela from his clan, began to appear from behind trees and bushes. Devlin was staring at the cave's opening as if he knew they were staring back at him. And when he spoke, it caused both of them to startle in surprise.

"So it's done, isn't it?" Halberdsen asked.

Neither of them answered, and he smiled, as if he didn't expect them to. At the exact moment the evil smile crossed the man's lips, he held up a long, white glowing sword. Hermione could have sworn it was the sword from her dreams.

He said, "I believe you'll need this. It only showed itself after your ascension… that's how I knew it was complete. It's as valuable to me as you would have been, dearest cousin Hermione. You can't begin to defeat me without it."

Squinting, she leaned closer to get a better look, and as she did, Draco placed a hand on her arm. "Get back here," he hissed.

Chills went through Hermione's body as the next moment Halberdsen's smile was replaced with an evil sneer. Then there was a loud, crashing noise as the 'cloak' they were hiding behind shattered, almost as if it were made of glass. Then there was a burning sensation all over her body, a sting of pain, and she fell over at Draco's feet.

Draco shouted as Hermione fell at his feet. The cataclysmic explosion of the cloak dissolving over the door pricked his skin and burned his eyes, but he knew no pain, as his every thought was on the woman lying at his feet. A flash of anger rose from his chest, he roared her name and reached for her arm, dropping to the ground beside her.

There was a bright and blinding light that suddenly filled the entire cave, as the walls around them fractured and splintered, causing rocks and pieces of slate to fall all around them like shrapnel. Draco placed his body over the still body of the woman beside him, and as he did, he could tell she was cold, barely breathing, not moving at all.

The walls of the cave continued to press upon him, and he felt suffocated and afraid, and totally helpless, especially when a hand reached in around them and pulled Hermione away from his grip.

He tried to try to fight his way out of the rubble and mess, but he couldn't continue to fight. The light was dimming… until it was totally dark. Then he gave into the darkness.

Hermione felt a warm, unpleasant tasting liquid fill her mouth and she began to sputter and cough. The metallic taste of blood made her retch. Opening her eyes, she noticed she was in another cave – a different cave – with her wrists bound behind her back. Devlin looked down at her. His wrist was bleeding. Dear heaven above, he had fed her some of his blood.

"I know what you're thinking, and it would be correct," Devlin said. "I gave you my blood. With it in your body, I will be able to control you, sense you, and hopefully make you behave." He knelt down beside her and with a strange twist of tenderness, wiped an errant drop from her chin.

"Where did you get the sword?" she asked.

"Here, in this cave. If you had read everything that was in those journals and texts of yours, you would have known it was here."

"I couldn't understand everything that was written in them," she begged to differ, "as some of it was written in runes I'd never seen. I could only read those particular runes after they appeared to me in the cave where I ascended."

He looked at her differently. "Runes appeared in the cave after you ascended?"

They appeared after she placed the amulet in a rock, but she wasn't going to tell him that, since she still wore the amulet around her neck, and felt it might come in handy later. So she nodded.

"Interesting," he leered.

Hermione's mind was in a haze. She tried to think of ways to escape, but nothing came to mind. Nevertheless, as she sat on the floor of this cave, arms bound, she began to feel even stronger than before, and she couldn't betray that feeling to this man. Her enemy. The one she just decided – in her mind – would die.

Draco found it hard to concentrate. He was under heavy debris, having trouble breathing. Each breath he took came out shallow. Rage filled him when he thought of Devlin taking Hermione away. In his mind, she was HIS and no one could take her from him.

An arm reached in the rubble. He heard a voice. It was Potter. Bloody hell! Potter to the rescue, once again. The man had already saved Draco's life a time or two when they were younger, and here he was saving him again. He put that repulsive thought in the back of his mind and shouted as loudly as he could. "Potter! Halberdsen took Granger!"

"We know," Harry said, clearing away rocks and boulders with his wand. "We saw him taking her. The rest of his people followed, so a few of your father's people and two of my Aurors chased after them."

A small clearing appeared, sunlight flooding the dark prison. Harry blocked the light, leaned into the small space he made, and said, "We'll find her, Malfoy. Don't worry."

"I think I know where she is. I can find her, because she took some of my blood. Just get me out of here, Potter," Draco said resignedly.

Hermione watched as Halberdsen paced back and forth in front of the large opening of this cave. He had a wild look about him.

"Why did you try to kill me all those times?" she asked.

He looked back at her. "I never tried to kill you, actually. I tried to kill Malfoy. You're no use to me dead, and he's better off dead."

"Why didn't you kill him now?" she asked, trying to remain calm.

Halberdsen knelt before her. "Oh, he'll die soon, never fear. But I have to make you mine first. The mating ceremony will happen – only this time, it will be you and me, not you and Malfoy. I'm waiting for a priestess from my clan to come and make it official, so to speak."

"Draco told me that the mating ceremony isn't legal in any sense of the word," she opposed.

He smiled again. When he smiled, he looked more sinister. "It may not be legal, but believe me, it's very binding. And it will make me the strongest Veela in our world. My cousin was meant for that particular title, but he was weak, and didn't appreciate the fact that he practically had the world lying at his feet. That's when I decided I would take him out of the equation, and make you mine instead."

Hermione gasped, the implication of his words feeling like a slap to her face. "You killed Jonathon?"

"Smart girl. Yes, I killed him. He's buried here in this cave." He started to smile again, but then a loud boom sounded outside.

"What the hell?" Devlin shouted, standing.

The front of the cave widened with a crash. Their hiding place filled with dust. The whole cavity rumbled and shook. Cold air mixed with fury descended upon them. Hermione covered her face with her hands. When the dust settled, she saw Draco standing before them, Harry and the others right behind. A battle of hexes and curses bounced around the cave walls, and out the opening. She ducked her head to keep from getting hit.

Struggling in her bindings as the fight ensued, she finally managed to free her hands. Draco shouted for her to run, but she knew she couldn't leave them.

Halberdsen took the white, glowing sword and sliced it in the air. She screamed as Draco once again crumbled to the ground, this time with a slash of red blood seeping onto his shirt from a laceration going from his chest to his groin.

Hermione ran over toward Draco. Halberdsen and his guards were still fighting Harry and the others. Placing Draco's head in her lap, she swiped his fringe of bangs off his forehead. He looked up at her and with a weak voice said, "I've come to rescue you this time, little love. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Very much," she said, close to tears.

"Am I dying? If I am, it doesn't hurt as much as I feared," he said, taking a ragged breath in and out.

Hermione gently placed his head back on the stone floor and said, "I've decided that you'll live from this battle, Draco. You won't die today." She felt strong in her conviction, but she knew they were mere words unless she went into action. Instinctually, she grasped the amulet in her hand, closed her eyes, and thought of Draco as strong and healthy. Opening her eyes again, she looked down at him, bent at the waist to kiss his forehead, then stood.

Walking out of the cave, she saw fighting all around her, all throughout the woods. Men and women were battling each other with curses, hexes, even good old-fashioned hand-to-hand fighting. Calmly, she walked among the mêlée and stepped over bodies lying on the ground, until she was standing near Halberdsen. Circling the man, who was using his wand to fire a curse at an Auror, she saw the sword on the ground by his feet.

She stooped low, concentrated, and held out her hand. The sword flew right to it. Without hesitation, she joined the fray. Thrashing the sword right and left, she ran through the crowd of men and women battling. She realized that she didn't need to touch a single person with the sword. All she had to do was point it toward the person she wanted to fall, and they fell.

Feeling more and more powerful, she continued into the throng. Harry was on the ground, bleeding, covered in dirt and sweat. She paused over him, pointed her sword at his chest, and thought one though. 'Live'.

The dust and confusion began to settle. That didn't mean it was over, because Hermione saw Halberdsen turn to flee. She began to chase after him. Running through dense forest, between trees, over rocks, down narrow paths, she followed him. At one point she lost him. Seeing a shadow on the path, weaving back and forth, she looked up and there in the sky, above the trees, were eight ravens. Somehow, she knew what they represented, and that they were there to help.

The birds flew westward, so she followed. She ran and ran through thicker foliage, until she heard rushing water. Coming out of the thicket of trees, she spied Halberdsen just as he was running toward a small boat sitting on the embankment of a rapidly moving stream.

He pushed the boat from the shore and then stepped inside. Using the oars, he began to row away. She ran to the edge and shouted, "Stop!"

He had a wild look in his eyes. He looked up, noticed the ravens circling overhead, and with a panic expression on his face, he started to row faster.

Hermione closed her eyes, concentrated, and when she opened her eyes she was standing in the small boat, right in front of the man. He sucked in a breath of surprise.

Halberdsen stood to face her, causing the small craft to shift back and forth. Hermione braced her legs widely and pointed her sword at the man. They were so close the tip touched his chest.

His lips twisted in anger. "Drop that sword!" he raged.

"I don't think so," she said calmly. Then she closed her eyes, lunged forward, and just as quickly opened her eyes. When she opened her eyes she saw the sword bobbing to and fro from its place in the man's chest.

Halberdsen looked down at his chest, sword sticking out of it, and his eyes grew wide in shock, mouth opened in a silent scream. With his last remaining breath, he said, "How?"

"Because I willed it so," she said serenely.

Falling in a slow arc, the man toppled out of the boat into the water. Hermione was able to grab the sword at the same time, but the momentum of his falling caused her to go overboard with him with a loud splash.

From the shore, Draco (who had recovered shortly after she passed her hand over him) and Harry Potter both shouted. Harry yelled, "HERMONE!" and Draco simply screamed.

They ran toward the water, with Draco moving a bit faster than Harry. They started to swim toward the middle of the stream, but both stopped when they saw the point of the sword making its way above the murky water.

Hermione hauled herself into the small boat, holding onto the hilt of the sword with one hand. Throwing the sword inside first, she climbed in, looked toward the muddy bank, and saw Draco and Harry wadding in the water. "I'm fine!" she shouted, chest heaving from exertion. "How did you know where to find me? Did you follow the ravens, too?"

"I didn't see any ravens," Harry said. "I followed Malfoy."

She looked over at the other man. "And I found you because you're mine. My blood is in you." He bent at the waist, chest bursting from effort and exhaustion. "I thought I was finally going to rescue you." He looked back at her and smiled. "But it would appear that you didn't need rescuing… just as you predicted."

She began to row toward them, a smile on her face. "One might even say that I saved you again," she said with a grin.

"What else is new?" Draco almost pouted.

Hours later, back in the village, the victorious Veelas were rounding up the last of Halberdsen's people. Sitting at the same tables where they were to have their mating ceremony, Hermione reached across the smooth wood that separated her and Draco and grabbed his hand.

"Is it over?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said sincerely.

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, and then placed their joined hands on the table between them.

"My dream sort of came true," she said. "You know, the one where I sat on a horse, hair flowing all around me, a breast plate of armor on my chest, and a sword in my hand. And I even saved the prince."

Draco snorted. "Except your horse was a broken down row boat, your breast plate was a dirty and torn mating gown, and… and… okay, you had the sword, and you saved the prince."

She smiled.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her hand. "So, Granger, what's to become of you and me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Looking down at the table, he kept her hand in his left hand, while he drew small designs on the top of the smooth wood with the other. "You could always marry me. It's a bit more binding then a simple mating ceremony, but it's traditional, and I have a feeling that we're meant to be." He sheepishly looked up at her. "That is, if that's something you might be agreeable to do."

"We could do that, I suppose," she said, trying to sound flippant, even though she felt anything but. "And we might even do it here in Vanaheim. We could invite our friends and family to come here and join us."

He nodded. "That might work," he said. He dropped her hand, stood up from his bench, leaned across the table, and braced his weight on his hands. With his face next to hers, he said, "Do you mind sealing the deal with a kiss?"

"It would be my pleasure," she said, bringing her face up and placing her mouth upon his.

After their kiss, he dropped back down in his seat and placed his head on the table. "I think I need a nap first. I was almost killed again today. I can't even count how many times I was almost killed this past week or so. Almost dying is exhausting. I don't know how Potter used to get over all his near brushes with death."

"He had me there to help him," she said softly, brushing her hand along his scalp. He glanced up at her and smiled, then closed his eyes. "And you'll have me here to help you, always."

"Better you than Potter. And it's a good thing, too, because I think I'm going to need it," he said, eyes closed.

She bent toward him, kissed him on the head and said, "I think I'm going to need it, too."

The End


End file.
